Idle and Blessed
by FirstRabid
Summary: This is a fix-it fic for Journey's End, featuring Rose/Ten primarily. Ten 2 is gone, but not forgotten. The Doctor's essence has been essentially archived into the Ten2 human-hybrid body. Think of the pocket watch from Human Nature for how this works. Adventure ensues for Rose and the hybrid Doctor. Many canon loopholes are explained. There is a little Eleven/River at the start.
1. Chapter 1

**IDLE & BLESSED**

by Rabid1st

Doctor Who

Ten/Rose

AU from "The End of Time"

**Rating**: Mature

**Beta:** Not at this time. Eventually.

**Warning:** This is not a Ten2 story. He is gone, but, not forgotten, exactly.

**Author's Notes:** Once upon a time, a long time before Journey's End, I wrote a story called "What Wild Geese Know" that featured Ten and Rose starting out to be normal people like...well...everyone has now imagined Ten2 and Rose to be. But then Journey's End happened and I lost all taste for my favorite show. But still, I wanted to finish my Wild Geese 2 story idea. This story is going to take some of those ideas and work them around with a bit of what is happening with the Moffat/Matt series of Doctor Who thrown in to the mix, because I can't ignore that canon, I just can't.

**Summary:** There are a lot of unanswered questions in New Who. Loopholes in the plot that are shouted out loud. "Why did the TARDIS door close?" for example. Who closed it? Why did all time lines end with Donna? Who was that woman who warned Wilf? What caused that explosion on the TARDIS during the Tenth Doctor's regeneration? And when did the Doctor become such a helpless child, so afraid of endings? Of course, it may never be connected by canon. But I will connect it all here. The explosion on the TARDIS was the start of another story, in another universe. This is that tale.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing associated with Doctor Who. This is simply a way to pay homage to characters I love and wish to preserve in my mind.

"_Tell me, what is it you plan to do_  
_with your one wild and precious life?"_

~The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

"What is it, my love?" River asked, with tender concern, as she sank down beside him on the blanket they had spread for their picnic.

"This," he said, waving a hand at creation. "My life in a bottle."

"It is what it is. All we have is this. But we can go anywhere. And I, for one, have enjoyed every moment."

He smiled fondly on her, before he tutted and shook his head. "I know, you see. And I can't unknow. The loop is closing. Forever closing. Like a necktie. A noose."

"I can sense it, yes."

"You expect to end, but you don't. I won't let that happen."

"Shhh! Spoilers."

"No," he insisted, taking her hand. "Believe me. For you, there is a reality beyond this one. I know what happens to you, River. I've lived it. Or, at least, I remember living it. You-" She wrenched her hand away.

"Don't say. Never say. Knowing changes everything."

Chin to chest, he peered at her from beneath his fringe. Determination hardened the lines around her mouth. Those dreaded lines were the proper depth, now. They were out of time. He could read her exact age to the second by a thousand signs. This would be their last picnic. He smiled and took her hand again.

"Thank you for this. This picnic. This lifetime. We _have_ lived, haven't we?"

"We have." She smiled at him. "We will go out together."

"No," he denied her once more, but kissed her hand. "If you hadn't been here, I might have fought back, tried to change something. But you made me promise not to change a thing."

"Did I?" He nodded and after a pause she asked, "When did you know?"

"That I was a remnant? Incomplete?"

"A child, sweetie. Brand new. The TARDIS is sheltering you here."

"In this culdesac."

"When did you know?" She asked again.

"When I saved Amy the first time," his voice trailed off to a cough. Then, he seemed to gather himself again and continued. "I tried to go back to the explosion, you see? I planned to stop it."

"And they stopped you?"

"Yes. I sensed the other universes. But when we kissed-I read it in your mind. You've known for a long time." He handed her a sandwich wrapper. "Do you see this?"

She turned it over to read, "Bad Wolf Bakery?"

"And that?" He pointed to a sign.

"The Predator Club?"

"Signs. I mean, of course, but not just signs. They're," he air quoted, "Signs! She's coming back. The predator. A bad translation. But that's the Daleks for you. This universe can't forget me, because she won't let it. She's coming back and I'm going to die. Truly and forever."

"No. You won't. The TARDIS has a plan. It is time to be reborn."

"Remade. There's not enough of me to save. We both know it."

"You are stronger now. You needed time to grow into yourself. We've given you that."

"This is Emo Boy's fault. All his moping about gave her ideas. And he never should have kept that hand."

"I wonder did you have a choice?"

"I am not a pet," he said, surging to his feet. "I am not a goldfish in a bowl. I am the Lord of Time."

"Gallifrey is gone. All of it. She just wants to keep you safe."

"Am I safe? Trapped here? There will be another Doctor. And you will go on, out there, to meet me again. I'll be left here, treading water, treading time. Is this a life? But, I promise you, before I go, I will find a way to set you free from this," he waved a hand at the world, once again, "prison."

"Not a prison, my love, a womb. She has a plan."

"I don't want to go," he said, speaking the wish aloud for the first time. He wasn't afraid of death. He just wanted to go on, do more. Be him.

Clinging to a particular ego self was an unthinkable arrogance for a Time Lord. And yet, there was so much he still wanted to experience with this body. Most of it impossible for him, now. He could never be happy without..._all that he'd lost. _But he hadn't lost hope, not until this very last moment. Against all odds, in the back of his mind, he'd still believed in her.

As if in response to his distress, the TARDIS began to quake and shudder. A brace crashed down from the side as flames licked up her walls. Panic caught his dying breath. Something was happening to the TARDIS and he was helpless. What could cause such destruction within his ship? What the hell was happening to her? To him?

This wasn't just a regeneration. Or if it was, certainly, it wasn't like any of the one's he'd endured since Gallifrey was lost to him. Truly, they'd become a blur of burning pain and grasping for memories. What comes after regeneration? Nothing, he would have said, now that the Matrix no longer existed. In the past, of course, there was a virtual existence waiting for each facet of a Time Lord's ego. But with Gallifrey gone, he would be gone as well, snuffed out like a candle when the new man arrived. There was no place to preserve his bio-data. He'd had a plan to survive, but his ticket to independent life had been lost, along with everything else that mattered.

At best, he might live on as a shadow-self. He might be tucked into the new man, folded over into the emerging ego of the Next Doctor. There would be remnants of him, but no clear soul or voice. He would cease to matter. And, yet, he wanted nothing more than to live independently. To have a sense of himself, as a unique being. His ego longed to be in charge of its own destiny. But that wasn't possible, not without the Matrix and all it represented of eternal life for each regeneration. He had managed to keep the echoes of his Eighth and Ninth selves around, at the back of his mind, but they were no longer individuals. They were part of his three-fold consciousness.

He'd played fast and loose with this regeneration, damaging his continuity by splintering his personality, squandering bursts of energy, but none of that explained what could be destroying his ship. How could anything violate the TARDIS like this? Perhaps the damage was self-inflicted. But what could she be doing that would tax her so severely? Even as he had the thought, hope sparked again in his mind. His ship could be cracking the universe, trying to reach across the Void. Such an attempt would short out her systems and create a devastating power surge. He dismissed the thought. She would never do such a thing on her own, without instructions. Unless... There was one person who could command the heart of his ship, because she had already created a link through the Time Vortex.

_Rose? _The TARDIS spoke for him, like an exhalation of angels. He hadn't the breath or bodily control to say the name. But it appeared to conjure her image. She was with him, glowing pink and gold, eyes burning hot as the sun. A last illusion. Or a portent, like the Watcher. It couldn't truly be her.

Wish fulfillment was part and parcel of a virtual existence. Had the TARDIS found some alternative to the Matrix? Was she downloading his dying self? He thought, of Rassilon's nearly infinite power. He'd managed to retain an ego self eternally. Rassilon had returned from death and had nearly broken free from his time-locked bubble. The Matrix had been close to Earth, for a moment or two, nearly parallel. Perhaps, the TARDIS had synchronized with it, somehow. Or perhaps she had tapped into the great Library computer and found a way to keep him safe during such a transition. But no, even the Great Library could not accommodate a Time Lord with a three-fold consciousness. He would fragment into madness. If there had been just one part of him in the body, perhaps, it would have worked. But he was complex and, just like Rassilon and the other resurrected Time Lords, he would need a biometrically exact vessel to contain his mind. He'd had one, but he'd given it away.

Yet, he appeared to be continuing in some formless fashion. His self awareness remained clear, even as something infinitely powerful hooked into his chest and jerked him away from his morphing body. The sense of motion dragged him up and out of his flesh. Vaguely, he recognized this feeling. It reminded him of his time within the pocket watch. His Time Lord Essence had been preserved within the watch, while his body was converted to a human form. As he departed, he became aware of his body being converted into something, someone else. He wondered if it would remember him. And then he became aware of the universe, as a bubble with a crack in it. He watched the TARDIS shatter.

Before he could work out what was happening, the dragging force plunged him into a scalding sea of white-gold light. He would have screamed if he'd had some idea how to do it. Waves of energy tossed him high and pulled him low. Luckily, the disorienting pain lasted only a moment. It left him drifting lazily along as the sweetest sense of welcome enveloped him. He was no longer alone. For the first time in his life, he belonged somewhere. It struck him suddenly that this could be true death at long last. He'd never experienced true death before, but didn't the lore suggest a bright light and greetings from lost loved ones? The ambient glow became pinkish, again, surrounding and penetrating him. It felt warm and inviting. It pulsed reassurance, like a heartbeat. He was home and safe. Everything would be fine now. The sense of joyful reunion continued, bathing him in contentment for what seemed like hours.

His peace evaporated without warning. The lights clicked off and he fell head-over-tea-kettle into breathless, absolute darkness. Horrified, he struggled to draw in air. And it worked. He could breathe. The first gasp tore at his lungs. It felt like a sword through the chest. The world jerked sideways and cracked into his head.

_Rose had taken his hand. A moment after his attention divided, Rose Tyler took his hand._

_She was holding it again, when he returned to himself, two halves clicking back into a whole. _

_That couldn't be a coincidence, could it? No! There was too much coincidence in this. _

_Donna. Donna's grandfather. Donna's car. Davros, the only mind capable of destroying the walls between parallel worlds had been resurrected. Resurrected? Saved! By Dalek Ka'an? How much power had that taken? Enough to nearly release Rassilon from his temporal prison. The meddling of Dalek Ka'an had to be what cracked those walls! Oh, yes! Dalek Ka'an another being that looked into the heart of time and went mad. _

_Anyone would. Anyone but her. _

_What had Davros said, again, "He saw time...and...he saw you. Both of you." _

_The Doctor and Rose. As it should be._

_She'd been silent. Strangely silent in the face Davros taunting him. _

_And then there was Ka'an. He had foretold her coming. She'd met him just before leaving this universe. She'd told him the truth. _

"_Do you get that? The God of all Daleks and I destroyed him." _

_The endless fire. Everything."Why does it burn?" _

_How had she remembered defeating the Dalek Emperor? He'd wiped it from her mind. And yet...he had heard her tell Ka'an the truth._

_Who closed the TARDIS door? Not Ka'an. No. The TARDIS itself. Perhaps. Or the Wolf, reaching across time and space? Rose with the power of the TARDIS time vortex at her command. _

_She said to tell you, two words. Bad Wolf! Not gone at all. Not locked away, but everywhere. Too dangerous to let roam freely, but far too powerful to be contained by him._

_All those banners, declaring her return. "Rose is coming back. Isn't that good?"_

_Oh, yes! It was very good. And completely terrifying. Because he was powerless against her. _

"_I have seen it," Ka'an said, "At the time of ending, the Doctor's soul will be revealed." _

_Who revealed more of his soul than her? _

"_And one of them will die." _

_That made sense, of course, because that was how a meta crisis worked. A life for a life. You couldn't create an exact copy of a person from a hand, and then just walk off whistling. One of them, the new him, the old him, or Donna would have to die to break the connection. Donna. It would be her, because she was human. There couldn't be a meta crisis with a human, because they had only one life to give. She would burn up as his mind passed through her. Unless he interfered. He could block the link, if he took away all of her memories of him, and sealed the walls of the universe against the inevitable end._

_But they just kept popping back into his life. Donna and Wilf. Wilf and Donna. Pieces on a chessboard. "One question Doctor," Wilf had asked, apropos of nothing."Who was that woman?" _

_The realization twisted cold in his gut. Wilf had seen her, too. She'd covered her face, but he'd recognized her aura. Rose. Older. No longer blond. The Bad Wolf. Had there been a plan all along between Rose and the TARDIS? Could it be the same as his plan to create another vessel for his consciousness? He'd failed. But perhaps they had succeeded._

"I want you safe, my Doctor."

_The thought would have made him laugh out loud if his body hadn't been burning. All his suffering, the torturous decisions he'd made to preserve both Rose and Donna, to give them some semblance of a normal life, did none of it matter? How deluded had he been, to imagine himself in charge? _

_He was nothing more than a passenger. A flea on the back of a woolly mammoth, pretending he steered the beast._

"_You are tiny. I can see the whole of time and space. Every single atom of your existence. And I divide them." _

_She had divided him. _

_And then, she put him back together again._

Awake. Whole. Alive. He was alive. Good. But unexpected, somehow. Why? Unable to open his eyes, he took inventory in the dark. There was something cold and damp and gritty under him. His fingers dug into it. Almost definitely not an afterlife, he thought. Heaven, if it existed, had to be more comfortable than this. And quieter.

A horrendous screeching sounded in his ears. A fire alarm? An air raid siren? Perhaps a cacophony of separate sounds? There seemed to be words, but he could make no sense of them. After a moment, he identified one of the noises as gulls. Gulls screaming on the wind. And was that the rumble and swish of surf? There was a salt tang to the air. But no temporal positions teased at his tongue, no time or place. His tongue felt rubbery. His breath came in short gasps, grating along his throat. He could sense a sluggish and erratic heartbeat. Respiratory by-pass had failed to kick-in, but his distress went deeper than lack of air. This could be nothing but life, but it was alien, strangely altered. And quite impossible. He'd been dying for days.

Maybe he'd only been alive for a day. Two sets of memories had been pushed into a pile of vague impressions. He had understood something about all of this, before waking up here. The memory of a memory teased at him. And regeneration loomed out of the car wreck of his recollections. Dying was hard to forget. He'd died. And fallen. Saved Wilf. There was some radiation poisoning, and a final tour of goodbyes. And Rose. So young. Looking fresh as springtime. Her smile lit up the night. It warmed him inside as she ran toward him.

No, she was running away from him. Up the stairs toward her flat. No. Toward the vanishing TARDIS. The TARDIS was leaving without him. Because Rose had kissed someone. Him? No. Not him, but like him. Someone else. There were two of him. She'd wrenched away from him, breaking the embrace, and run toward the other. He felt bereft and happy at the same time. But he was already gone, then. He was betrayed and betrayed again.

It wasn't fair. Everyone had someone. He'd made sure of it. And so what if they weren't happy? They were getting by, making something out of their lives. And he had nothing. Nothing. An arrogant fury burned in him, alongside his sadness. Of course he'd refused to let go of life, of hope. He'd fought against the inevitable change for as long as possible.

Had there been an explosion? A voice calling to him? Eyes burning like a beacon as he moved away from his body? Was that normal? No, it wasn't.

So, that settled it then. All of this discomfort was an illusion. He couldn't be alive. He waited for reality to catch up with this realization. Any moment now he would die. Any second. But, if anything, signs of life intruded more than ever. His perceptions grew sharper. In fact, speaking of sharp, there was a very sharp something stabbing into his right shoulder. And someone was definitely speaking, shouting, some words. It sounded like English. As he translated the noise, he became rather alarmed, not only by the words, but by the implication of a voice he was sure he recognized.

"Rose? Sweetheart? Can you hear me? Don't be dead. My God, please! Open your eyes, Rose. Rose? Come back to me, sweetheart. Please."

"Rose?"

He'd intended to project the question, but choked on it instead. He sputtered so violently that he was forced to sit up, coughing. His mouth flooded with saliva. It dribbled over his lower lip and down his chin. That was new and different. He'd never dribbled. Someone clutched at him, first his arm, and then his shirt front.

"Oh, thank God! You're alive! You have to help her."

His eyes would not open. He tried to force one eyelid up with a sandy hand and fell back onto the ground. Coordination off a bit. Navigating his fingers to his face took concentration. He poked his cheek and brow and some grit fell into his mouth. But he finally managed to peer out at the world from one eye. Something monstrously blue loomed over him. He winced as it grabbed at him again.

"Don't you dare pass out again. Do you hear me? Rose needs help." He recognized that strident note of command.

"Jackie?"

"Oh! Not again. Come on, now. Stay with me."

He'd expected her to call him useless. He thought himself remarkably useless, at the moment. But she sounded heartbroken. And he knew a rush of affection for her. Bracing himself on an elbow, he levered toward what he hoped was up. Forcing teeth and tongue and lips to form speech took a tremendous effort, so he left his eyes closed to compensate.

"Yes. Right. Here. How? Wha-what's happened?"

"Don't ask me, you useless lump. I don't know. Just move. Do something. Help her!"

Now that was the Jackie Tyler he knew. The world seemed right to him. He threw far too much energy into opening his eyes and just managed it. "I—oh, dizzy," he said, surprised by it. And he vomited.

Involuntary retching? No. It was inconceivable. Undignified. Disgusting. And pointless as there was nothing but watery bile in his stomach. Knees curled to his chest, he lay on his side on the sand, far too close to the mess. The world tipped and spun. What in the name of Rassilon was happening to him? Time Lords do not get vertigo. Ever.

"Sorry! Sorry!" Jackie said, petting his shoulder. "Please don't die. Not in the back of beyond in bloody Norway."

"Norway?" he croaked. Definitely not Heaven.

"Tha's right," she said in the same tone she might use to a backward child. "We are still where the other you dropped us. The heartless sod. No phone signal. No roads. And I need you. So,snap out of it. Please."

He fixed his gaze on a crab shell, half-buried in the sand a few yards from his nose. This encouraged the world to stabilize slightly. Keeping his eyes focused straight ahead, he lifted his head again. A large part of his disorientation came from the dual memories assaulting him. He seemed to be two people. But he put that aside.

"Jackie. You must tell me what you saw. What happened just before Rose and I collapsed?"

"Can't you just...?"

"Tell me," he commanded, then softened his tone. "It's important."

"All right, then. You were kissing. You and Rose. And the other you took that badly and swanned off. Then, Rose broke away from you and ran after him. But he was gone. And you went after Rose."

He remembered it. "And I took her hand."

"That's right. And she'd just turned her head to look at you, when, there was this—I don't know—an explosion."

"An Explosion?" He remembered that, too. But it had happened on the TARDIS as he regenerated. The TARDIS collapsed around him, and he was pulled free. And the universe became a cracked bubble.

"I saw the sky break open and I swear the world fell through the hole. We were all toss off our feet. And there was this-this, I don't know what. A wave of fire, washing over us, so bright I couldn't see. I was so scared, I called to Rose and I...I closed my eyes. And I didn't open them until it was over. When it stopped, I sat up and saw the two of you. I shouted, but you didn't move. And Rose is so cold, Doctor. You have to do something."

"Yes. Alright. In my right trouser pocket? There is a medical kit. Smelling salts. A red bottle." He watched her fumble down his front. She patted and prodded him until she found the kit and the vial. Pulling it free, she turned toward Rose, but he stopped her with a put upon sigh. "For me, Jackie."

"And then you will help her?"

"Then, we will see if I can move."

TO BE CONTINUED


	2. Chapter 2

**IDLE & BLESSED**  
by Rabid1st  
Doctor Who  
Ten/Rose  
AU from "The End of Time"  
**Rating:** Mature

**Beta:** Keswindhover

**Warning:** This is not a Ten2 story. He is gone, but, not forgotten, exactly.

**Summary:** The Tenth Doctor has been archived into a biometrically identical vessel. He's worked out everything but the impossible bits and now has to work out what to do next.

_"Tell me, what is it you plan to do  
with your one wild and precious life?"_  
~The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

The smelling salts worked a treat. His eyes popped open, burned like the dickens and started watering. He pushed Jackie away from him. Once the noxious vapors cleared his head, it took the Doctor .248 seconds to work out what had happened. Well, everything but the impossible bits and those could wait. He'd been archived. Successfully, it seemed, because .248 seconds was a respectable mental response time for a post-regeneration calculation. Several glitches in his autonomic systems troubled him. The worst of it was, he'd become almost entirely subjective. External sensory information was practically nil. Also, he kept gasping for air. Of course, one heart meant no respiratory bypass. He could hear the echo of his pulse beating in his ears. Blood glurgled sluggishly through his veins. And everything tasted weird. He wondered if he would be able to adjust his sensory palette with a little practice once he'd sorted out the new nervous system.

There were apparent balance issues. He instantly regretted the attempt he made to bound to his feet. He propped himself somewhat upright and took stock of his surroundings. Rose lay nearby. Sky. Surf. Jackie bashing her phone on the sand.

"Right. Note to self. No bounding about," he said. After a brief hesitation, he added, "At this juncture."

Resorting to traveling on hands and knees, he scrambled toward Rose. But he couldn't quite reach her. She emitted a temporal field that would have easily incapacitated a full-fledged Time Lord. As it was, searing heat stopped him when he drew close enough to touch her. He jerked back with a yelp and reflexively jammed the sore fingers in his mouth. Horrible salty taste. He spat them out again, gagging as he turned to Jackie.

"Sh-Gah—she's burning up. Literally burning," he said. "Can you feel it?"

Jackie gave up on abusing her mobile to put a hand on Rose's brow. "She's a bit warm, yeah."

"A bit?" He squeaked. After a shaky breath, he let his head nod as he gave the problem some thought. "Right, then, I'm hypersensitive. Probably. Well—good. I mean, not, good, but less—what? Catastrophic."

If Jackie couldn't feel the heat, it might not be life threatening to Rose. On the other hand, the forces at work could be outside human sensory range, like most radiations. Didn't mean they wouldn't kill you. Oh, he really shouldn't think about how many things could kill him. Radiation poisoning. Blood poisoning. Poison poisoning. Peanut allergies. Choking on a chip. Stop it. Rose needed him focused.

His hybrid physiology would be more attuned to any temporal energy. That made sense. He was, essentially, a unique creation, part human/part Time Lord. Eww. No. Don't think about the repulsive implications of the Meta-Crisis. Part Donna. Lovely, jolly, brassy Donna. He let out a breath slowly. Yes. Thinking of Donna made it easier to stomach this new form. And stomach it he must. He didn't want to experience the taste of bile again, not any time soon. That's the human experience in a nutshell for you—random fluid secretion. Gallifreyans had very efficient elimination systems. Waste not. Want not. But humans spurted something out of one orifice or another with alarming regularity. He'd have to get used to sweat, urine, bile, phlegm. Spit. Semen. Good Night, Moon, he hadn't thought of that. There was bound to be fluid exchange, eventually. How anyone could call that "getting lucky" was beyond him.

Still, no use crying over—well, whatever he'd be spilling, was there? Not milk, he hoped. Generally speaking, human males did not have active mammary glands. But he was part Donna and Donna was female, so it was possible he'd eventually start lactating. But, that was a worry for another day. He'd manage his bodily functions when the time came. Sooner rather than later, if the pressure under his navel were any indication of those things. He looked around for a suitable boulder or bush to duck behind in lieu of a loo. He supposed he must hide his excrement away, since the rest of them did. Assuming he was going to be stuck here, he'd need to resign himself to mimicking human social norms.

It wasn't like he hadn't had practice. Put some Time Lords in his position and they'd go mad in an instant. Or soon put Caligula to shame. At least he was properly housebroken. He'd been keeping up appearances as a human male for centuries. More or less blending in. He was without a doubt the best suited of his kind to this sort of archiving. He'd given being human a lot of thought, even taken the plunge once. Though, in retrospect, that hadn't gone well. And he only had the retrospect, having left his Time Lord essence behind in a pocket watch for that adventure. Still, Human/Gallifreyan—er—let's say, union, had always intrigued him. He'd even explored some of the possibilities presented by compatible physiology. There was no sense denying his curiosity had gotten the better of him from time to time. And, after he'd met Rose, he'd extended the limits of that curiosity well beyond mere mimicry. He loved her, to be forthright about it, and he almost didn't care who knew.

"Are you just going to sit there staring at her?" Jackie's accusing tone cut into his musing.

"What? I mean, no. No. No!" He caught himself up short, before he could say "no" again, sniffed and focused on Rose. One hand drifted to the back of his neck. He ruffled his hair. Then, he tentatively reached for her again, but quickly pulled back. "Jackie, I'm going to need your help. I want you to open one of her eyes for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Eyes. Open," he snapped, closing his own. He pinched the bridge of his nose with thumb and index finger. "Could I be any clearer?"

His exasperated tone put Jackie back on the defensive. She bristled, as she moved hastily to Rose's side.

"Look here, you bleedin' useless twig! So far you've dragged us across the universe, involved us in your personal war, abandoned us in the arse end of nowhere, cloned yourself and let the other one of you swan off with your ship. Rose tells me you're brilliant, but I haven't seen any sign of it." Even as she berated him, she shifted around to gently lift her daughter's right eye lid. Fire swirled in the glassy orb she revealed. The sight caused Jackie to recoil. "Oh, her eyes! Wha's wrong with her eyes?"

Fear gripped his innards. The Gallifreyan part of his nervous system valiantly attempted to override a wave of human stress hormones, but failed to avert the chemical tide. It swept him into his first panic attack. Adrenaline coursed through his blood stream, triggering a host of reactions. His heart raced. Breathing and thinking became nearly impossible as his chest muscles tightened. Oxygen saturated blood flowed to his extremities, leaving his internal organs deprived. Fight or flight, he thought. It's an adaptive response. Just ride it out. Don't run. Don't run. Breath. He was shaking.

How did humans tolerate such an onslaught? No small wonder they were perpetually cranky. Not to mention incurably impulsive. He started a Venusian Aikido chant in his head. Go to your happy place, his teacher used to say, and he'd wondered what she'd meant. Now, he swallowed the lump in his throat and groped for a meditative calm. Slumping forward, he dropped his chin to his chest, so his head hung below his shoulders. In that position he took a few cleansing breaths. He'd have to take up Aikido again, or yoga or—or tax preparation. He could see why so many people turned to drug use, but he doubted it was an option he could tolerate.

"Doctor?" Jackie touched his upper arm. "Don't leave me."

"Yes. No. I'm—just...Uh...thinking." He lifted his line of sight until his eyes met hers. "This is bad, Jackie. She's channeling the Time Vortex. It's protecting her, but burning up her mind."

"Well, you just stop it," Jackie ordered, gripping his arm tighter and giving him a shake.

"Yes, I had thought of that," he said. "But it would kill me. And I can't regenerate."

"I don't care. She needs you. My Rose needs you." Jackie glanced down at Rose's still form and her grasp on him slackened. "She crossed the universe to find you. She wouldn't stop. I pleaded with her, but...she just kept trying new things, alien things. When they built that cannon, I knew-," her voice broke, "I knew she would go." She shook her head and looked back to him. "But she's still my little girl. And you promised to keep her safe."

The chemical roller-coaster took control again, slamming him through a few emotional hairpin curves. "Don't you think I know that?" he yelled, baring his teeth as he flung her hand away. Anger brought him to his feet, staggering a little, but too upset to notice. "This is why I left. To protect her. I did everything I could to protect them. It's not my fault they never listen. Nobody ever listens. I tried to save her. And Donna. And the other one. I tried to save all of them."

But even as he denied his part in this tragedy, his new capacity for shame kicked into high gear. It was all his fault. His already over-developed sense of responsibility would be apologizing any minute. He always blamed himself, so why shouldn't other people blame him, too. At this rate, he'd end up a Church of Scotland convert. He stole little girls away from their homes, their mothers, and he encouraged them to become more like him. Reckless. Dangerous. Capable. Awe-inspiring. The stuff of legends. All too often his encouragement destroyed them. But nothing stopped Rose. She just kept coming, growing stronger. When it came to outsmarting him, she had proven to have a remarkable capacity to adapt. She was more like him than anyone else he knew, she was the one thing he believed in and so he'd always understood that she would find him again. Leaving Rose behind was not an option, as he'd told her many times. He just hadn't quite explained why.

As his anger ebbed away, he collapsed back into a seat on the sand. "I'm sorry," he told Jackie. "I'll do what I can."

He began patting himself down, emptying his pockets. The Handyman had made good use of his time alone in the TARDIS. Memory fragments told him Handy had pilfered a number of useful gizmos, not the least of which was a piece of TARDIS seed-coral. Now, that would make life much easier for all of them, one day, but not today. Today, he needed a far cruder piece of equipment. And, at last, his fingers closed around it. Crowing, he yanked it out into the open and waved it in triumph.

"Blood pressure cuff?" Jackie asked, assessing the heavy leather gauntlet he held aloft.

"Vortex manipulator," he said. "Pinched it. Oh, yes!" Grinning madly, he snatched up his spare sonic screwdriver from the sand. He gestured at the extensive piles of loot around him. "Look at all of this booty. I was never a boy scout, or a pirate, well, not officially, but I came prepared. I thought of everything."

"Even Rose in a coma?" Jackie sneered. "Do take time to gloat."

"Sorry." He blushed. "Oh, that feels weird. Blushing." Like a tingle and burn all over his face. It went well with his slight sense of contrition. He coughed self-consciously and tucked the delight with himself away to savor later.

"Doctor, please, help her," she said. Then, she nodded at the cuff. "Will that make her better?"

He opened his mouth to explain about the manipulator, took in Jackie's puzzled expression and shook his head. "It will help, I hope."

Gritting his teeth for the ordeal, he edged close enough to Rose to place the device against her wrist. Unfortunately, his fingertips grazed her skin. She ate him whole. The energy surged like a breaching behemoth and took him. He fell into a maelstrom of churning power. His screams ripped the flesh in his throat. But he didn't care about the pain. He was a Time Lord again, for a second or two, as the Vortex digested him. Paradoxically, inside the storm, he felt more like himself. He could sense his position in time and space. Creation made sense again. It was a clockwork entity. Gears turned as they were meant to turn. He understood. Everything that is, was or shall ever be lay wanton before him. He could pick and chose what to spare or destroy. This was the ultimate temptation, to be a true God of Time. The Wolf could enter him, too. He and Rose would be Gods together. They could tread the paths of time and pop the bubbles of as many alternative universes as they liked. The Doctor and Rose, together forever, as it should be.

"I've got you," Jackie said, as he fell backward into reality.

She'd wrapped her arms around his chest and wrestled him away from Rose. Desperate to return, he struggled to be free, but Jackie held on, even when his elbow slammed into her ribs. Luckily, he wasn't at his full strength.

"Ow. Bugger. You behave," she said, slapping his shoulder. "This is for your own good. You've gone off your head again."

He growled low in his throat and rolled over to shake her loose. She pinned him, her grip something out of Greco-Roman wrestling. He'd just realized he would need to kill her, when sanity returned to him. Going boneless, he lay still, panting. He turned his head a little to wipe a bit of spittle from his lips.

"Well, this is embarrassing. And blushing does not help anything as far as I can see. It's simply uncomfortable. Speaking of," he said, as his breathing steadied, "you can get off me."

Jackie didn't shift, at first. But, when he'd remained quiet for a bit longer, she let out a sigh and relented, rolling to one side. They both sat up, avoiding one another's gaze as they brushed at sandy clothes.

"This is what she goes through, is it?" Jackie asked on the heels of the strained silence. "Traveling with you? Utter madness all day long?"

"No. Not all day," he said. "Sometimes we dance." He caught her eye and smiled and they both chuckled away the tension.

"So? Back to it," Jackie said, pushing up to her knees. He offered her a hand on the elbow.

"Right. You'll have to buckle the manipulator around her arm," he said, nodding at the device. "Since I can't touch her. And, I'm sorry, but you'll have to come with us."

"O'course I'm coming," Jackie said, dismissively. Then, she cocked her head. "Where are we going?"

"I'm sorry, Jackie. So sorry. But, we can't stay here."

"On a half-frozen beach in Norway? Too right we can't. We need to get Rose to a hospital or..."

"No, I mean. Here." He pushed both hands down indicating the ground under them. "This time. This planet. Earth."

"Whadda ya mean, Earth?"

"Uh, we are leaving this planet. And you have family here. Pete and—little, little—what's his name? Tony! You have a life with people who need you and..."

"Rose needs me," Jackie interrupted him. "Right now, that's all I care about. She's my daughter."

"I know, but, I'm not perfectly certain you understand..."

"Oh, you are so patronizing sometimes. You don't think I knew we might not make it back when I followed her? I knew we could get lost or die. But, she was determined to find you. So, I had to go with her. Even if it meant never seeing Pete or my Tony again."

Suddenly, he was misty eyed. "She is your daughter," he said, placing a hand to her shoulder.

Jackie gave him another pat. He was starting to like them. "We have to save her, Doctor. You tell me what to do and I'll do it. First, I buckle this thing on her arm. Then what?"

"Read off the numbers from the display. They will keep scrolling past."

Jackie glanced down, tilting her head to read. "There's a six and a curly squiggle and some dashes," she said, squinting at the manipulator. "Wish I'd brought my reading glasses. But then, you never expect to be programming doodads in space, do you? Thought I'd leave all of that up to you lot, but it just goes to show..."

"Try these," he said, pulling a pair of spectacles from an inner pocket and handing them over.

Jackie slipped them on and exclaimed in delight. "Oh, that's loads better! What prescription you got?"

"Adjustable to the wearer," he said, beaming at her. "Twenty-second century optics. Just around the corner." He lifted a brow as he bobbed his head at Rose. "The numbers?"

"Well, I've lost my place, now, haven't I? Wait, there's the squiggle again." She read the symbols and digits off to him one at a time. Clearing a space in the sand, he used a finger to draw circular patterns on the cleared patch, repeating after her as he did. "...sixteen, twenty-eight, zero seven, wavy thing, spiral, three, triangle..." He glanced up, frowning, at her. "Triangle? Do you mean pyramid?"

"It's spinning, so maybe."

"Flat on the bottom?"

"Yeah. And a sideways eight and that's all. We are back to the squiggle six." She shifted around to peer at the designs he'd drawn. "How is this going to help Rose?"

"That, Jackie, is a vortex manipulator," he said, as he busily filled his pockets with all of the things he'd removed from them earlier.

She made an impatient noise. "So you've said. Tell me how it will help Rose for you to draw in the sand." The shrill edge returned to her voice. She ran a hand along Rose's brow, smoothing back her hair. "Stop wasting time. Rose could be dying."

"She's not. Not yet. And a Vortex Manipulator does what it says on the box. It manipulates the Vortex. And right now, the Vortex is inside of Rose. These," he gestured at his circular patterns, "are calculations, written in my language. Using the coordinates you just read to me, I've calculated a trajectory. We are going to manipulate the Vortex out of Rose's head. Only," he held her gaze with a solemn stare, "it's not part of this universe, which complicates things."

"I don't understand a word of that," Jackie sighed. "And I don't see why you always have to make things so complicated."

He tried charades, acting out with his hands. "Right. Keeping it simple, time travelers use that," he pointed at the manipulator, "to bounce off of the Time Vortex, a swirly sort of energy. They travel with it, like a surfer or a jet ski on a wave. But this Vortex isn't a wave. It is more of a—what? A well. It's just there in her head. We need to tap that well and use up the excess energy. Imagine Rose is a car with a full tank of petrol. We have to go somewhere to use up the fuel. Technically, we don't have to go. We could just send Rose, but we don't know where she will end up and I'm obviously not about to risk losing her, so, allons y."

"Right. Enough explaining. Just get on with it."

Squinting his eyes shut, he clutched at his hair for a second. He counted to ten. Not as slowly as he would have liked, because she yelped his name. "Doctor?"

"Still here," he sighed. "Getting on with it. But I'm going to need your help. You know my ship? The TARDIS?"

"Oh, don't start again."

"My ship?" He insisted. When she looked blank, he grew exasperated. "The blue police box?" Even when she nodded, he glared a moment longer before continuing, "She's not, exactly, a ship. She's a living being, linked to, drawing energy from, the Time Vortex. Like Rose is now. I program the TARDIS to tell her where to take me, by using various computer interfaces. But, for Rose, I'm using that," he nodded at the cuff. "Or rather, you are." Jackie looked completely confused. He waved a dismissive hand. "Never mind how it works. You see that mauve button?" Jackie nodded, moving her hand toward it.

"Don't touch it. Ever." She flinched back at his hard tone. "That's the transmit control. Stay away from it. Don't. Touch. The mauve!"

"Finally, he starts making sense," Jackie grumbled under her breath. She avoided his eye, looking out to sea. Probably so he wouldn't see her tear up, he expected.

"Jackie?" He spoke softly to call her attention back and sooth her feelings. "Trust me. Press the yellow input button and enter these coordinates: R'elsyncu—er, that is, wavy thing, fifteen..." He patiently recited the rest of the numbers and symbols required for reprogramming the manipulator. When Jackie finished entering everything, he peered past her to check her work. "That's it."

"Now we can go?"

He glanced around to make sure he had everything. Then, he took a breath and nodded. "Press the green button. That's it. And take my hand." She did, her fingers squeezing his. "Hold on to Rose with your other hand. Don't let go of us. When the numbers settle into a stable configuration, I will press the transmit button and, well, it will be a bit unpleasant. You might feel a little sick. It's not dangerous. But it will feel strange. There will be nothing but darkness for a second. No air. No sound. No light."

"Doctor? I'm scared," she said, tugging at him just as his free hand moved toward the control panel.

"Me, too," he told her, then, realizing that was hardly reassuring, he gave her hand a squeeze. He pasted on what he really hoped was a confident smile. "Come on, it's not that bad. Like switching a light off and on again. Over before you know it. You'll have a bit of a headache is all."

She nodded, smiling back at him. He pressed transmit and instantly regretted it. The universe slammed a lid down on him. A millisecond later, Jackie screamed. A clear sign they'd arrived. He drew a breath of fresh air into his starving lungs and took stock of their surroundings. They were still by the ocean. Brilliant. After all of that, they hadn't moved. He felt a flash of frustrated disorientation, until he glanced up and saw a long wooden dock and a city beyond it. That looked promising. They'd made it somewhere else, at least, and the air was breathable.

If his calculations had been right, this was Cignus Minor Three, circa 2785. The sky had the right tinge, pinkish with fluffy purple clouds. It was sunny. The sun seemed to be at the proper distance and exhibited appropriate signs of decay. His half-human tongue offered no further spacial insight. The air tasted like...what? Apples? He sniffed. Nothing on the wind but the scents of rotted fish and sea spray. It was eerily quiet. He held up a finger, then all of his fingers, and felt a slight eddy of cosmic gravitational pull, but no definitive information. No matter. There appeared to be a spaceport in the distance. So, wherever they were, they were closer to civilization than they had been a moment ago. And Rose felt cool where his wrist touched her.

He slid his hand around, until it rested flat against her arm. No burning sensation. No sucking undertow of awesomeness. Good. Great. He marshaled his mental reserves and took a shot at telepathy. He called to Rose, wondering if she would sense him mind to mind. Was he even telepathic in this body? The Vortex had drawn him in before, but that could be some type of hallucination. He gave her a moment, and then called again.

_Rose? Can you hear me? Rose. Come back._

He sensed something. The something approached him. It was the size of a planet, and twice as fast. He braced for an impact, but it didn't hit him. Instead, it stopped and scanned him. He felt the assessment of a thousand pairs of eyes. He might have been on stage at the Old Vic, naked and encircled by a thousand critical wolves. The wolves found him wanting and sprang toward him. Something else batted him aside. Once again, he tumbled backward, landing on soft sand. This time Jackie wasn't holding onto him.

Rose stirred and spoke. "Is it you?"

It took him a beat to distinguish between his mental Rose and the one in the flesh, to realize he was hearing her voice, using his ears as well as telepathy. Her brown eyes were open and focused on him. He breathed out a long sigh. Tears blurred his vision. One splashed onto her hand, as he nodded an enthusiastic affirmative.

"It's me. Truly. Whole and complete in one body. Hello," he said. Then, grinning madly, he gathered her into his chest.

She did not reach for him. He cradled her, rocking back and forth, his nose buried in her hair. She lay unresponsive in his arms, while Jackie patted them both and peppered them with questions. None of her worries registered as important. He didn't care what happened next. Couldn't be bothered thinking about the future. This was enough for now. He wanted to sleep like this, curled around Rose on the sand. It seemed like he'd been running for 900 years, without pausing for even a day. Finally, he could rest. It dawned on him that this might have been what the Ood had been talking about with the singing. _We shall sing you to your rest_. And what had 2005 Rose told him? _Maybe it's time you went home._

"I'm home! Yes!"

"Is that a helicopter?" Jackie asked. The question and a strange buzzing broke into his reverie. "That humming noise?"

"Torchwood," Rose said, pushing to be free of his hold. "Can you see them?"

He sighed and shifted back, releasing her. "Can't be. We're galaxies away from their influence. Centuries ahead." But Rose was rolling to her knees. He stood with her, keeping her close by offering assistance.

She took his help, but only, he suspected, because she needed it. "What do you mean galaxies away? Where are we?"

"Ah, not quite sure, at the moment. What do you remember?"

She avoided his eye as she slapped sand from her backside. "I remember you leaving. After you promised you never would."

She sounded angry and he wanted to claim he'd come back, but she'd find out soon enough. He never could keep things from her. "You brought me back," he told her. "You and the TARDIS. Working together."

"Me? I didn't do anything. I just passed out," Rose said. "And woke up here."

Was she feigning innocence? Or did she truly not remember? "Why did you ask if it was me?"

"I—I don't," she frowned over that one, fingertips massaging her brow. "It just seemed like you. I can tell."

"And you didn't even have to kiss me," he said, letting some of his own ire show.

"That kiss was his idea. That's what he whispered in my ear, 'kiss me.' So I did. And I didn't know you'd run off as soon as my back was turned, did I?"

"I thought you might want some privacy."

"You abandoned us to—what? What is going on?"

"Where are all the people?" Jackie said, repeating what he felt was a pertinent question and forestalling a fight. She'd been trying to gain his attention for a few minutes. "It's a bright sunny day at the beach. There's a city. Why are there no people? And what is that noise?"

Mouth half-open, he considered her questions. He looked up and down the beach. Nobody. Not a soul. The beach was deserted. And the boardwalk. And, as far as he could tell, the city. No horns honked. No smokestacks smoked. There were no planes in the air. No birds. Or bird-like beings. No vehicles, or boats, or strollers or fisherman. And now he'd focused on that droning, it was definitely—definitely what? Not a helicopter. Not mechanical. Organic? Insects, maybe.

His gaze darted toward the spaceport. For the first time, he registered the strings of brightly colored flags fluttering across every roadway. Red, gold and green banners. They appeared to be wrapped with silver filigree. A celebration? No! If the year was 2785 it was The Celebration! He checked the sky again. This was the Cigna System. If his calculations were correct, and he came first in manipulator maths, they had arrived just in time for the _Wedding That Changed History_! They should have landed in the middle of the biggest party this part of the universe had ever seen. But that would mean scads of people around them. Every dignitary in the surrounding twenty systems attended the union of the two greatest space-faring peoples of this era. The beach should have been standing room only.

He grabbed at Rose's wrist, twisting around her to read the Manipulator's display screen. "Oh, no. No. This is bad. Very bad. There should be people. Lots of...people." He glanced up and back at the quiet city.

"That's what I said," Jackie told him.

"Where are they?" Rose asked. He could feel her pulse quicken under his thumb.

"I don't know. But that sound is familiar. It's..."

Panic again. His throat clenched around a jagged lump. His tongue seemed too dry. Before he could make anything out of these instinctive reactions, Jackie screamed and backpedaled into him. Following the direction of her gaze, he saw his worst fears realized. Something was cresting the dunes, spilling onto the beach. A scuttling, silver-black army of legs and pincers and eye-stalks poured across the sands.

"Run," Rose said, setting words to action.

He dug in his heels and spun her back into him. "We can't outrun them. Grab your mum."

Rose reached out for Jackie and, as soon as she had a secure hold, he punched the mauve button again. This time there was almost no sensation at all, but the world melted and reformed. They were standing in the same spot on the beach only the sun had shifted in the sky. It seemed to be mid-morning. All around them, brilliantly iridescent butterfly people frolicked and laughed. They had willowy figures and gossamer wings. Several sipped sweet treats from long stemmed flower-like glasses. Those revelers close by, nodded in a friendly fashion, obviously used to strangers popping out of nowhere. Tiny personal transport pods darted across the sky, leaving vibrant contrails.

"Where are we?" Jackie gasped, completely missing all of the obvious signs that they were on the same beach.

"When are we?" Rose corrected, cocking an eyebrow at him as she waited for more info.

"Three weeks earlier," he said. Puffing out a breath, he tried to relax. He dragged his free hand through his hair. His other hand refused to let go of Rose. "Residual energy in the device. Enough to skip us back to an earlier time."

"How did you know that would work?" Jackie asked.

" Fail-safe. Built-in. If you go forward, whatever you are trying to avoid still happened, enemies remember you, debts are accruing interest."

"I mean, how did you know those bug things weren't here already?" She clarified.

"Oh," he said. "I didn't."

Jackie threw both hands into the air, completely exasperated.

"Three weeks?" Rose looked around. "But...there are so many people. That would mean..."

"All of this," he confirmed, waving vaguely, "is going to disappear. Twelve billion people gone. They have less than a month."

"How?"

"Digested," he said, his fingers finding hers and curling around them. "All of them, flesh and bone and memories. Consumed by the K'anB'akiur Scourge. The thing is it should be impossible. The Scourge died out ages earlier. At least," he amended, "in our former reality."

"What are we going to do?" Rose said.

"Leave," Jackie said flatly. She pulled at Rose's other hand and pointed toward a distant set of scaffolding. "There's a space port, right? We find a ship and leave."

"Yes," he agreed, casting a sidelong glance at Rose. He couldn't argue with that. He wasn't the Doctor anymore. He was just a man. They had no plan. There would be no regenerating. He was completely vulnerable. No TARDIS. Time to try caution on for size. "We should go." When she lifted her questioning gaze to meet his, the hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Isn't that what people are supposed to do? Run away from trouble?"

"Other people," Rose said, and he felt sure she was suppressing her own slight smirk.

"Smarter people," he confirmed, holding her eyes.

"Not you two, then?" Jackie said.

A mad glee took hold of him and he grinned broadly. Rose beside him; trouble ahead. The urge to run swept down his body and he bounced up on the balls of his feet. The bouncing reminded him that he had to pee. He glanced around in some distress. For the first time in 900 years, he found himself wondering if butterfly people had bathrooms.

"Allons y," Rose said, finally smiling.

Tightening his grip on her hand, he took off for the boardwalk. They weaved through the crowd, him towing along Rose, who kept a firm grasp on Jackie. Holding onto one another, that was the human way of surviving, right? He might adjust to this, yet.

END THIS PART


	3. Chapter 3

**IDLE & BLESSED**  
by Rabid1st  
Doctor Who  
Ten/Rose  
AU from "The End of Time"  
**Rating:** Mature  
**Beta:** Keswindhover  
**Warning:** This is not a Ten2 story. He is gone, but, not forgotten, exactly. Basically, in my world, Ten2 was a vessel, created by the TARDIS, to store the Tenth Regeneration of the Doctor. A fleshy pocket watch, if you will, for those who have seen Human Nature or Utopia.  
**Summary:** The Tenth Doctor has been archived into a biometrically identical vessel with a human heart and other human parts. He's worked out everything but the impossible bits, but he hasn't caught Rose up on any of it, yet. Rose is understandably confused.

_"Tell me, what is it you plan to do  
with your one wild and precious life?"_  
~The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

On the far side of a proper promenade, they located a row of quaint bather's accommodations, changing huts, each fully plumbed with shower and toilet. Rose laid claim to one, guarding the entrance while the Doctor and her mother explored the interior. While she waited, occasionally waving off butterfly people, Rose's leaned against the hut's wooden lattice work. She didn't plan to mention it to her companions, but she felt awful. Her head ached. She rubbed her temples, wondering if she'd been injured when she fell. It could be a concussion. Her stomach felt queasy, too. Of course, she hadn't eaten anything since, when? Since breakfast. Two universes ago? She took a gel-pack of emergency rations from her pocket, pulled open the tab, and sucked down the lemon-lime contents. The quick carbs helped clear her head, but her belly cramped so severely she nearly dropped the packet.

Probably getting an ulcer, she thought, all this stress. Two Doctors. One of them human. Good Lord. Who could have see that coming? And the kiss. So right, and so very wrong. How long had it been since anyone had kissed her like that? Bonfire night? No. That one paled in comparison. His kiss had seemed like something from a dream. An echo of a pleasant shiver zipped up her spine. Rose asked herself the same question she'd been asking for the last five years: How much more of this could she take? Her life seemed to be one impossible event after another, crisis incoming-no waiting. And no time to unwind.

She couldn't remember the last time she'd taken a day off to relax. It had to be before she came to this world. But she did recall something Torchwood Director Suzie Costello had once told her about hope. Mickey had mentioned opening a Pandora's Box during a trade negotiation and, when talk turned to the idea of hope, Costello had said, "Hope belongs in there with all the other evils. Never forget that, Tyler. Hope is the evil thing we cling to, when we should be arming ourselves against it."

Being a natural optimist, Rose had scoffed, but recent events seemed determined to convince her to, at least, take precautions against entertaining too much hope. She'd kept the little winged beast alive for five years, now, even when she'd had good cause to give it up. While attempting to return to the Doctor, she'd been stymied so many times she'd lost count. She'd held a dying Donna in her arms. She'd watched Jack burn. The Earth had been lost and a million solar systems beyond it. She'd developed Zen-like patience with screwy temporal currents. Her time in the TARDIS served her well. She'd learned to keep her wits about her while traveling with the Doctor. There were tricks she'd mastered. Never use your real name. Keep your sense of humor. Brazen anything out. Silence is your best defense against intrusive questions.

Everywhere she went, people had questions. Who are you? Can you save us? Who are you looking for, again? When are you going to give up on the Doctor and settle down? Alternative Donna's, Torchwood, Mickey, her mum, knowing the fate of worlds was in her hands, always turned to her in times of crisis, asking her what to do—as if she knew. Ever since she'd been sucked into an existence where her father had lived and succeeded, Rose had been trying to work out who she was. Who she wanted to be. She couldn't become Pete's daughter. The Doctor had been right about that. Pete had known Jackie, so they quickly developed an easy rapport.

But unlike her mum, or Mickey, Rose didn't have a place in her new world. She hadn't taken to being pampered and rich. She loved the man who was almost her dad, enjoyed his company, but she couldn't forget that she belonged elsewhere. So, instead of becoming a new Rose Tyler, she'd become the new Doctor. The Bad Wolf. Defender of the Earth. A mysterious stranger. She'd joined Torchwood and found it wanting. With the Doctor as her lodestar, she'd tweaked it into something more humane, less militant. The effort hardened her, but she'd kept her resilience. She'd studied alien technology and diplomacy, accidentally created alternative universes, built a traveling machine or two, and gotten her friends killed several times over. Her goal of returning home always remained elusive, just out her reach.

Even when the dimension cannon started working, the Doctor evaded her. She'd called to him in a panic a hundred times, only to have him slip away into oblivion. He'd die under the Thames or fall victim to an invisible entity on a world made of crystal and diamonds, even as she rushed to save him. Rose couldn't help feeling that, despite today's apparent success, she'd somehow arrived too late, again. When that Dalek shot the Doctor and he'd started to regenerate, she'd begged him not to die. Rose shuddered, remembering. She didn't want to think about how close she'd come to losing him. She had found him three times, now. The first time, he'd been half-mad following the Time War. The second, he'd been a childish future self in a cul-de-sac universe. Had she ended up in a fatal time line, again? One where the Doctor split in two? Finding two Doctors turned out to be just as frustrating as finding none. And she'd lost her link to Torchwood One. On all of her previous journeys, the Superphone had helped her coordinate her travels and return to a reset point. This time she was stuck, unless the Albatross found her. Would they think to wake it?

She hadn't told the Doctor about her secret helper in this world. Confessions were the last thing on her mind during those few stolen moments surrounding his aborted regeneration. All she'd wanted was to hold him. Now, she wasn't sure what she should share with him. He certainly wouldn't approve of the Albatross. And she wasn't sure she could trust him completely, despite the reassurances of her heart. He felt right to her now. He hadn't before she'd passed out. But she couldn't shake her nagging doubts about this doppleganger with one heart. How could it be her Doctor? He would have to explain what had happened after their kiss. Why she'd blacked out. Or better yet, why he had left her behind in the first place. Would her Doctor, the real Doctor, have tossed her back into this prison?

Perhaps. She had to admit the possibility. If, as he'd said, he believed it was their only choice, the only way to contain a dangerous being. If it were the only way to save others from harm. He'd certainly looked heartbroken. He'd said they saved the universe, but at a cost, and that cost was a human Doctor. He'd called his double dangerous, full of hate. But then, the human Doctor had somehow—changed. She couldn't explain exactly how she knew, but he was better now. Or maybe she hoped he was.

Rose tried to put it all out of her mind. She opened the back of her mobile and grimaced. The phone's interior had melted into a gooey mess of metal and plastic. It looked beyond help. She was on her own. After waving off another alien couple, Rose closed her eyes and, groaning, let her chin fall toward her chest. God, she felt awful. There'd been a flu going around Torchwood last week. But, she couldn't afford to be sick. She had a world to save and a possibly psycho Doctor to contain. She heard the unmistakable tread of those trainers, closing on her, and opened her eyes. But she didn't dare look over at him. If she met his gaze, she'd be swept up an emotional maelstrom and abandon all sense of a separate, reasonable self. And, until she knew what she was dealing with, she must not fall under his spell.

"Better?" she asked, pretending to study her phone.

"Much! Thank you!"

Even with her attention fixed on business, she noted his beaming smile in her peripheral vision. As always, it punctuated his exclamations, and made her want to turn toward him, like a sunflower toward the dawn. She needed them to be right again, to be content and happy together. She needed to rest, to stop being him. Rose knew it would be hard to resist the pull of their synchronicity. The mere sight of him acted like a tonic in her veins, or a shot of whiskey. He made her warm all over. Just yesterday, or earlier today, they'd run toward one another like the worst cliché of reunited lovers, both of them wearing grins so wide and bright. Her face still ached. She'd practically floated down that deserted street. And then, somehow, without even realizing when, she'd lost everything. He'd been him, at first, before the TARDIS fell into Dalek hands. She'd have sworn it.

"Although," he amended, sobering as he failed to connect with her, "in future, perhaps it would be better if you explained biological processes rather than your mother. She's a little too hands on."

"That's gratitude for you," Jackie said, crowding close behind him. "You're the one who had questions."

"Leave him alone, mum." Rose ordered, pushing out of her slouch. She had to bite her lip to keep her stern composure when her mum give the Doctor's rump a small pat.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, ducks," Jackie said, sucking in her breath to squeeze past him.

The changing huts were little more than two cupboards stuck together. There were no doors. A dog-legged portico of white lattice sheltered those using the facility from passing eyes. Three people strained the limits of the space, which had an alien configuration, awkward for humans. The entrances were tall, but not wide, designed to accommodate folded wings. The hut appeared to be designed for couples, rather than families. Rose had already noticed there were no children in evidence on the beach or along nearby streets. No family style facilities. Maybe butterfly people had caterpillar young. The Doctor would know.

"Lucky we found this place in time," Jackie went on. "Near to bursting, you were." She maneuvered around to face Rose. "You should go while you have the chance, Sweetheart."

Rose nodded and, handing her ruined phone to the Doctor, ducked into the facilities. Away from the crowds, in a cool, dimly lit space, she felt marginally better. The live crabs in her stomach stopped churning and pummeling her. She took a deep breath, praying the worst was over. Certain she looked frightful; she'd planned to avoid the full length mirror. But the suggestion of something alien at the corner of her sight caused her to glance up into her own eyes. She looked older, thirty at least, and careworn. A memory of something her Mum once said came back to her. "There will be a woman in a marketplace on some alien world, but she's not Rose Tyler. She's not even human." It had happened at last, and quite suddenly. Like a curse falling on her. Rose hardly recognized herself. How could she have changed so much in just two days?

As she took a step toward the mirror, a wave of dizziness hit. The world tilted around her. The floor slithered under her feet, like sand sucked away by an undertow. Rose grabbed at the edges of the mirror, suddenly afraid it was a portal, pulling her through to another realm. Disoriented, she thought she might faint or vomit. Luckily, before she did either, her mother's voice snapped her out of the weird head-space. The strident, but familiar, sound splashed into her like a refreshing spray of water.

"It will just be a minute or two more," Jackie yelled in response to an alien inquiry, as if shouting could surmount the language barrier. Then, she directed a question toward the bathroom. "Rose? Why do the butterfly people have toilets?"

"Paplioo'zue," the Doctor said, entering the conversation in that oh, so familiar way of his. "They are called Paplioo'zue or -kun, if they are mothier, less...decorative."

"I suppose they need them, same as us," Rose answered, glad for the distraction. Both she and her mother ignored the Doctor's interjection.

Rose took a shaky breath and looked again at her reflection. Same old, same old. Rose Tyler, age 24, a little worse for wear. She wore her traveling uniform of jeans, a pink shirt and a short purple jacket. She glanced around the now stabilized room. A bench. A sink. A toilet and shower. Nothing seemed amiss. This was ridiculous. She'd dimension hopped a dozen times or more. You expected a little disorientation. It was perfectly normal. This sensation of displacement was new, though. For a second or two there, it had seemed as if the whole universe had upped anchor, drifting and bobbing over time waves like an inflatable lifeboat.

A lifeboat universe. Why did that sound right to her? Rose shook her head, but gently. She couldn't allow a few odd sensations to distract her. Her mum needed her. And the human Doctor was her responsibility, too. Even if, somehow, he'd become her Doctor. Even if she didn't understand how that particular miracle had happened. She realized that she had no choice but to trust her instincts about him. He'd once promised never to leave her for more than five and a half hours. So, he'd come back. While she was unconscious, he'd come back.

He'd explain himself soon enough. And, she mentally insisted, there was nothing wrong with her that twelve hours of sleep wouldn't put right. No sense becoming a time hopping hypochondriac. She considered her reflection with new resolve and felt better about her haggard appearance. The mirror didn't lie. It, also, didn't try to swallow her. She looked tired, but human enough, her face make-up smeared and slightly freckled. Her hair was full of sand. She combed through it with her fingers, wishing she had time for a shower. Outside the Doctor nattered on about bathrooms. Rose used the loo and washed her face in the basin. Light years away from her lipstick and foundation, she reckoned the Paplioo'zue would just have to take her au natural.

"They have relatively similar biology...You'll find it all over the universe. Human physiology...well...essentially..." The Doctor's voice faded to background music as Rose puttered, a comforting drone. She admired the change in her mother. Jackie used to lose patience with him quite quickly. But she seemed to be following his rambling, and even contributed questions. "Their parts, equipment, elimination—erhm, organs have a humanoid design."

When he stammered his way through the thesaurus, Rose imagined his thin fingers curling in the air. She thought her insides might melt from years of pent up longing. Just to see him, to hear him go on about nothing at all. She knew every nuance of his mannerisms. He would lift his brow while drawing out the word "well." She'd seen it a thousand times.

"Well, all humanoid creatures have similar adaptations. Some of it is cross-breeding, of course. You lot did get out there and mingle in the later ages of Earth. But some of it is completely coincidental. There is an efficiency to upright quadrupeds, two arms, two legs. Faces. Bipedal." He would be nodding about now, hitting his flow in the stream of consciousness. "Run longer. See further. Of course, some species are nothing like yours. Insectoids. Plasmaoids proliferate...do nicely. But most sentient species are relatively human-shaped. Lucky, that, or Rose would have had a very hard time of it in our travels. My people took on a human-like form during the Death Zone Days. Though, that was strictly cosmetic, a matter of fashion. Time Lords don't need bathrooms."

Jackie snorted her disbelief. "I've seen your parts. They're not so different."

"Only on the outside," he told her. "The inside is another story. My people don't waste energy through elimination. We are highly efficient organisms. Had to be with the state of our planet. We look like you. But we are not you. My people were morphadaptive from the earliest stages of our evolution. We adapt to threats, circumstances, fashion, by changing our form, our bodies. An endless variety of shapes are possible. Granted some are more practical, than others. But I could look like any species, fish, fowl, fibrous slug, anything. Two heads. No head. I happen to prefer this configuration, but it is all cosmetic, a fancy dress outfit. Or pair of glasses. Useful. But not an essential part of me. Or it wasn't...before I was archived. Now, I'm stuck in what is, frankly, a less than ideal body. One that will age and die. Like it or not. Which means, I have to eat and sleep and manage...well...everything. I hope my heart is sound."

"At least you're still young," Jackie said. "Wait until your prostate goes. Pete's had problems with his for the last year, but he won't see about it. That's men for you. I remember my old Dad..."

Rose stopped listening. She sank down onto a wooden bench, the only furnishing in the hut. All this talk about the Doctor's half-human body made her curious. She wondered if it could be as simple as he indicated, slipping into new flesh. He always talked about seeing things with new eyes. But it was difficult to imagine him looking out from the inside of his body, like a person in a diving bell. Could he leave his body entirely? He seemed to be saying he could, had. Who was this hybrid Doctor? After the regeneration he'd been the same Doctor. Same man, new face. Only this time it wasn't a new face. If he'd looked different, she would have been more comfortable with him. But the Doctor had stayed, and gone. And possibly returned. Was this man an impostor, a clone, a copy? Before she'd passed out, he'd claimed he would grow old at the same time as her. That's seemed to be the bargain on the table. But she'd never asked for that.

Before the light in her head, before she'd passed out, before he'd changed again, she'd pulled away from the offer. She hadn't been able to resist the suggestion of the kiss. "Kiss me and you will know," he'd said. It could have been the right answer. She'd been intrigued for a moment by the thought of...well...physical compatibility, sex. And the human Doctor had delivered. That kiss sparked up a fire inside her and, for a second or ten, Rose had given herself to the flame. But even under the influence of her hormones, she hadn't forgotten her Doctor was still waiting for an answer. "Does it need saying?" No, it didn't. It never had. But, they shouldn't have needed a test. He'd already changed or he never would have thought of leaving her behind. Rose didn't want passionate kisses or a house or a Doctor who would age with her. She'd never asked him to settle down. It had been his idea from the start. He'd suggested a house with doors and carpets.

She only wanted him. When she'd tried to picture the two of them aging together, side by side in rocking chairs, she couldn't manage it. That ridiculous image, as much as the sound of the TARDIS leaving, had made her pull away from the kiss. The thought of her Doctor, feeble and helpless, made her heartsick, not happy. A fair trade Rose supposed, because it was probably what he'd always envisioned for her, whenever she'd talked about "forever." He'd thought of her decaying, wasting away. Maybe that's why he couldn't bear to stay. But, as Rose told him, many times, either of them dying of old age wasn't a very plausible scenario. Death on the run seemed a far more likely outcome for the pair of them. Rose had always assumed she would meet her maker after drinking a poisonous tea, which the Doctor had previously assured her was perfectly safe and delicious.

He'd lost a lot of people in his life, but it had never occurred to her that he would be so afraid of facing another loss that he would abandon her. How could he be so childish? So selfish. Adults didn't hide from things by covering their eyes and humming. His leaving wouldn't make her immortal. She would still die one day. She lived a dangerous life, with or without him. Did he imagine her puttering around Torchwood doing paperwork, before heading home on the five o'clock train with a take away curry? Was that how he wanted to live in this forced retirement? No. Rose couldn't believe it of him. Even if they settled down a bit, bought a real house with doors or what have you, they wouldn't become stodgy office workers. They would still be explorers, adventurers. Look at Sarah Jane, she'd never stopped looking for trouble. Old age wasn't crippling in this era. Grannies ran marathons. Seventy year old men started families.

"Yes, well, that's enough biology for now," Rose heard the Doctor say, evidently hoping to cut off Jackie's story about Uncle Ted's trip to the hospital with appendicitis. "Besides, I don't think I have an appendix or a prostate."

He backpedaled into the room, just as Rose stood up to leave. She could see the concentration on his face as he mentally probed about in his abdomen for organs. Jackie followed him in, over stuffing the small space, forcing the Doctor to retreat into Rose or the shower. He opted for her.

"Nope. No prostate. That's a relief. I hear they are nothing but trouble." To emphasize the joke, he prodded Rose with an elbow. Then, he exclaimed, "Ooh! I've a womb. That's new. And interesting. Do I like the womb? Maybe. Vestigial. No ovaries, thank goodness. Imagine me with Premenstrual Syndrome. Or pregnant?"

"A womb?" Jackie squeaked. "Where did you get that?"

"Half-female on my Donna's side," he said, by way of explanation. Then, because Jackie had sounded a tad accusatory, he added, "I didn't steal it. It's a what-do-you-call-it? Side effect," He gulped down the remaining words in the sentence, "of the Meta-Crisis."

"Rose?" Jackie said, "Did you hear that?"

"I heard," Rose said.

"He's got Donna's womb," Jackie told her and Rose wondered why she had bothered answering.

"Do you?" she said, lifting a weary brow at the Doctor. "That's different."

"It's all different from..." He turned his head slightly and stood transfixed.

They both fell into a dumbfounded trance as their eyes locked. The universe shifted again, far more pleasantly this time, rocking like a hammock under her. Rose momentarily lost track of her worries, her breathing, everything. It was an endearing trait, this habit he had of losing himself in her, drawing her into their private world. Again, a slight smile tugged at the corners of Rose's mouth. She couldn't help herself. His evident devotion always made her feel effervescent. And she empathized with his bemused expression. She felt much the same, being this close to him after so long apart. But even as she allowed herself to lean into his pull, Rose smacked down her elation. She couldn't afford to be lulled into a false sense of security. He might have the same old sappy ways and great hair, but he didn't deserve to be encouraged. Not this time.

He'd caused her no end of grief. He'd lied to her about never leaving. He'd left. And she wasn't convinced he'd intended to return. Even if he'd come back, or meant to all along, she couldn't forget how devastated she'd been when she saw the TARDIS fading. And he'd expected her to act as a jailer or nurse for his duplicate. After she'd risked her life to return to home, he might as well have slammed the door in her face. To have all of her hopes crushed, not by circumstance, but by the person she trusted most, was just too much to immediately forgive.

Resolute, Rose broke their connection by looking away. Her malaise returned like a punishment. A pulse of pain shot through her gut. Nausea made her mouth water and she would have laid down right there if she didn't have her mum to worry about. She opted for a slight grimace. No one seemed to notice her distress. Her mum peered up at the Doctor. The Doctor stared at his shoes.

They were lost on an alien world, one about to be destroyed by ravenous insects. The story of their lives, really. Rose wasn't even the least bit amused by this situation. No, she was furious. The Doctor owed her quite a few apologies, but there was slim chance she'd get more than the generic "sorry" out of him. And she was fair-minded enough to realize he, also, had some adjusting to do. It couldn't be easy waking up human. So, she wouldn't hound him for answers to all of her questions. Not yet. Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said of her mother.

"It's not natural," Jackie said. "I'm as open-minded as the next person, but if he's got a womb, how can you be sure he's a him? Not that I'd say a thing about it, if you didn't mind, sweetheart. You know, I'm not one to judge. Remember when Gladys' eldest boy started wearing those evening gowns to Tesco, I'm the one who did his hair up for him. And told those gossiping cows at the laundromat to sod off, too."

"Mum, leave off," Rose sighed, angling behind the Doctor to look out the door. "We can't stay here. We need supplies and a hotel room, somewhere to set up a command center."

"And it's vestigial," the Doctor huffed, following Rose as she stepped out into the bright sunshine, "A minor whatsit—glitch, that's all it is, just a glitch in the XY chromosomes. I was made from Donna. Or this vessel was. She had the double X, parthenogenesis leads to girls on Earth, but I used my handy spare hand. Everything I needed for this body's coding, all on file in the hand." He wiggled his fingers in front of his nose. "The end result is something completely new, unique, the perfect vessel. Weeelll, I say perfect..."

Rose nodded toward the distant space port spires, but let him take the lead, heading into the city. She was content to shepherd her mom in his wake. He'd, no doubt, been here before and she trusted him to know more than she did about the culture. As they weaved through an exponentially increasing crowd, he kept talking.

"Most of Donna's genes have been neutralized by my...? Innate avatar patterns. But some things, like the second heart and the respiratory bypass, couldn't be duplicated. Regeneration? That's complicated. Obviously any femininity is completely off-line. This is me," he tapped his temple, "stored up here. Where it counts. I've been archived. Although, human flesh is more assertive than I would have imagined. Not what I'm used to, I must say. All of this," his upper lip lifted into a sneer, "...breathing and, and...leaking. I wasn't even a tiny bit human before the Meta-Crisis."

"And I never said a word about it," Jackie said primly.

Rose snorted. "You said plenty." She air quoted as she did a sing-song impersonation of her mother. "'Has he got two of anything else? Can he even...you know? What if he eats you straight after? What if his...you know...has spines on it, like a hedgehog?'"

"Spines?" The Doctor stopped suddenly, forcing them all to break stride or risk losing touch. "Spines?"

"On your little Doctor, like a cat," Jackie said, as Rose took her arm to steer keep her close. "Or a bed bug."

"Ah, traumatic insemination. No. No. None of that."

"And what would you say if your only daughter was dating a 900 year old alien? Tell me you wouldn't worry about him sticking his embryo implants in her head."

"Mum, can we stop talking about…"

"Hand to heart, Jackie," the Doctor said solemnly, "I promise to never implant embryos in Rose's head. Besides, I'm 98% sure we can't reproduce. But if we did they would be the three sexes and no tentacles, or spines, 95%...92, that is, let's say, 90% sure. Although...stranger things have happened."

"What are you two on about?" Rose asked, snatched out of contemplating her physical distress by this possibly relevant information. She strained to hear him over the ambient din.

"Potential offspring," he shouted over the blare of a passing radio. "Unlikely as that eventuality is at the moment. Probably no tentacles." Rose cut her eyes to the side to indicate the staring people. He moved closer, tucking her and Jackie to him, one under each arm. "We wouldn't devolve. My people did have gelatinous limbs once upon a time. Oh, so long ago. Did I ever mention that? We were originally sort of jellyfish. Well, I say jellyfish. What I mean is squidish. Well, I say squidish." He paused to consider, allowing Rose to duck his hold, and then announced, "Octopi! Energy octopi! Gaseous and adaptomorphic. This was eons ago, of course, when we first crawled out of the seas. But then, you lot were once more fish than fowl, too. And you had penis spines, come to that."

"I knew it," Jackie exclaimed. "He's a gassy squid."

"Octopi," he bristled, taking sudden umbrage. "And it is more of an energy matrix. Than a...gas." He darted abruptly to the right, almost losing them. They ran to catch up. "And I wouldn't remark on ancestors at all, if I were descended from hairless apes. Octopi, by comparison, are amazing, even on Earth. Multiple hearts, carry their own oxygen supply with them. Very intelligent." The rhythm of his speech and pace slowed. He glanced over his shoulder, back the way they'd come. "Change shape or color at will. Escape from any trap. You'd be proud to be tentacled...if you were."

Nothing set the Doctor off like the origins of species. He would do twenty minutes before breakfast, if the toaster malfunctioned. But, instead of launching into the expected rant, he spun about, so suddenly her mum nearly toppled him. He took Jackie by the elbows and scooted her out of the way of a burly alien with meter long horns. They had crossed into a square and now faced a confusing tangle of claustrophobic pathways. Each meandered through the crowd toward diverging streets. When she glanced up, Rose could barely see the sky. Hovering platforms supported open air shops, floating above the buildings. The people climbed up ropes or flew to reach them. Bits of confetti and trash showered down on her.

"Before you continue on about how superior your species is," she said, gesturing at the choice of directions before them, "which way to the spaceport?"

The Doctor breathed raggedly beside her. He didn't seem to be enjoying the carnival atmosphere. In fact, he looked confused, blanked out, like her grandmother used to get from the Alzheimer's. Generally enthralled by busy marketplaces, he definitely was having some issues with this one. He cocked his head to one side, and then pivoted in a slow circle. Rose wondered if the human body had failed him somehow. He appeared to be listening, perhaps trying to sort out the Paplioozese from the many other languages being spoken simultaneously.

Rose had given up on discerning individual words from the cacophony around them. Everyone seemed to be talking at once. There were no cars or lorries, but a number of elephant-sized, burden-laden creatures had lumbered past. Harness bells jangled. The animals bellowed. Street musicians played odd hooting instruments. Vendors called out their wares. To their left, what looked like a snake-charmer clapped and capered. From time to time, his "snakes" blew out clouds of multi-colored dust. Off-world visitors used translator pendants to communicate. They spoke their own language with an echo of the native tongue. She should find one of those for her mum. Understanding alien languages was yet another thing she would have to discuss with the Doctor.

She watched a Papiloo'zue couple climb the side of a building across the way. Others were clinging to tiny ledges. The city had a Mumbai bazaar meets monarch butterfly migration vibe to it. There were too many different species to count on the ground. Buyers and sellers, pets and pet owners, draft animals and drivers, natives and tourists pushed through the narrow roads. Rose had the distinct impression that the city planners hadn't envisioned more than a handful of people on these streets at one time. And the din hammered against her ear drums.

Paplioo'zue chirped stridently as they dickered for goods, and buzzed as they took wing into the sky. Flying machines hummed. Bird-like beasts in cages cawed. There were fewer of the drabber, quieter Paplioo'kun on hand. Rose wondered if they came out at night like the moths they resembled. Once the hot sun set would they swarm the city the way the colorful Papiloo'zue did now?

Jewels and clothing and food and other goods tempted from displays behind glass or on trays in the hands of vocal salespeople. Rose's stomach cramped. She thought of her mother, going hungry, and felt a stab of guilt. She should have shared the rations before they set off on this quest. They all needed food, water, rest and safety. The Doctor wasn't immortal anymore. He wasn't looking well.

He'd paled to chalky white. His dark eyes seemed almost kohl-rimmed. Sweat stained the back of his suit. He appeared to be searching for some landmark, but there was nothing to see but smoke, people, wings, shops and fluttering confetti. The buildings around the square were generic, mud-daubed brick, all between three and five stories high. The streets had narrowed, until the sun cast only a sliver of light along them. The Doctor circled Rose, taking intimate liberties, his palms sliding along her waist. She stiffened, but before she could react, he'd let go. He held out his hand. She jammed both of hers into her jacket pockets.

"Right," he said, in a mournful tone. "I think," he swallowed hard, "we're lost." He mirrored her body language by tucking his own hands into his trouser pockets. Then, he dipped his head in the direction they'd come. When she grimaced, he said, "No?"

"Can't you feel the world moving?"

"I can't feel my lips. I believe that snake dust is an intoxicant. Do you feel...strange?"

Rose did feel a little unsteady and quite sick. But she didn't think I was the snake dust. For the first time, she noticed how slender the Doctor was, and thought about how fragile he might be. He could be injured so easily, fatally injured.

"What kind of strange?"

"My chest hurts. Nothing smells right. I can't sense anything. No gravitational pull. No planetary tilt. How do you people find your way home from the market? There's nothing but noise in my head. I've never been lost before. Well, I have, but not like this. It's like going blind and deaf...while wearing a spacesuit. I suppose—we could, we could ask for directions." He glanced up and down the street again. "Or a taxi, perhaps, or...a train."

"Just relax. Think. Where are we?" she asked, placing a hand on his arm.

"I told you, we're lost."

"No," Rose laughed, in spite of his distress and her worry. "What planet? What time? Have you been here before?"

"I said, didn't I?" He frowned as he sorted out his short term memory. "Did I? No, perhaps not. Could I be having a cerebral hemorrhage?"

"Let's find out, tell me what you remember about all of this."

"Cignus Minor Three, Circa 2875." He gestured broadly, a measure of his breezy confidence returning. "The year of the Great Ceremony. This is definitely not business as usual. We are here to bear witness to the blessed union of the young queen of the Paplioo'zue to a prince of the Paplioo'kun. Butterfly people all, well, butterflies and moths. The Paplioo'kun are more like moths."

"Oh, I miss those," Jackie said. "Having a President means no royal weddings. Sarah Jane told me young prince William is married, Rose. So, you've lost your chance."

The aside confused him for a second. "What? Oh, yes, no monarchy in your England. But this, this is a royal wedding multiplied by a million Diamond Jubilees. Two vast empires have been at war for a few thousand years. Civilized war, mind you, for the last couple of centuries, more like competitive business dealings and aggressive colonization. But any day now, all of that changes. There will be peace in this corner of the galaxy. And 10,000 commitment ceremonies in this system alone. Love is in the air." He waved a hand at the multitudes milling around them. "An unprecedented boon to the economy, everyone cashing in on the fairytale romance. I had always intended to bring you here one day."

"One day when the world needed saving," Rose said, softly. He had to lean very close to hear her.

She struggled to hold her place while being repeatedly jostled. The Doctor noticed, took her elbow and edged sideways until she had her back against a wall. It was quieter there, between two vendors. Rose hoped they wouldn't be pinned to the wall by the increasing crowd. What had looked like a reasonably bustling city had turned into the tubes at rush hour. And was well on the way to resembling a standing-room-only concert. It was hard to imagine all of it gone in less than a month.

Rose gulped against the lump of bile in her throat. A street magician, or priest, confronted them and conjured a shower of flaming sparks from a bowl. Rose ducked left to avoid the fiery spray and nearly brought down a tent over a kabob seller. Jackie started apologizing to the vendor, a Jadoon trader with a translator pendant.

Personal flying machines darted and weaved around the kites and banners and hover-shops overhead. Rose supposed flying was like walking, you wanted a vehicle every now and again. The Doctor could probably fly one on of those, if they could find one for rent. She hadn't seen any buses or taxis. And surely every spare room had been let. Turning to ask the Doctor, if he knew of any way they might navigate the city quicker, she saw Jackie receiving three steaming kabobs from the food vendor. What had she used for money? The vendor looked pleased with the deal, waving as Jackie pushed her way back to Rose to present the food with a flourish.

"Have a bite to eat," Jackie said. "It will help you think. The world's not ending today."

"It could be," Rose said.

But she and the Doctor took the offered skewers of meat and fruit. He sniffed his. Her stomach did a slow roll, and refused to even entertain the idea of food. One bite would have her retching.

"You can have mine," she said, handing the greasy thing to the Doctor, who had already gobbled his down. "It might help clear your head."

"You have to keep up your strength, too, Rose," Jackie said. "Who knows when we will find another friendly alien in this madhouse?"

"I had a gel-pack earlier," Rose said. "I'm not hungry."

The Doctor made short work of her kabob. She'd never seen him eat like that, as if he were literally starving. Between ravenous gulps, he panted for air. The sea generally resided at sea level, so his breathing distress wasn't due to altitude. It couldn't be exertion. They had been walking quickly, but hadn't moved for several minutes. He might be asthmatic or allergic to something. Or he could be having trouble adjusting to his human lungs. The air on this world was thinner than on Earth. If he wasn't careful, his hyperventilation would trigger a panic attack...or a fainting spell.

"Breath through your nose," she told him. "Count seven as you breathe in. Eleven out. Gasping makes it worse."

"Hyperventilation," he said. And she nodded, even though it hadn't been a question. He was the Doctor, after all. He held out a trembling hand. "I'm shaking."

"It's the oxygen mix," she said. "Torchwood keeps me fit with high altitude training, mountain obstacle courses. You'll have to start working out."

"Your mother seems fine."

"I teach Zumba," Jackie said.

"I never thought I'd out run you," Rose said, pleased. "Take that Suzie Costello."

"Torchwood!" the Doctor declared, snapping his fingers. "Do they have anything to offer in this emergency? A compass would do."

"We use RPN, Relative Positioning Navigation. Useless now I've lost contact with my base. Without the mobile we're cut off. And I don't have your extra deep pockets," she added with a grin. "I have five energy gel-packs, and some detox tablets for water purification, two nearly perfect Hyperlicon diamonds for trading. Flint, steel, matches and some psychic paper. A sonic cutting tool and a few broad spectrum antibiotics. And you."

"And me," the Doctor agreed. "Even in this body, I'm much handier than a sonic lipstick."

"I've got tissues, lip balm and my credit cards," Jackie added, checking her pockets. "And a second bloody useless mobile."

Inspired, Rose smacked the Doctor's arm lightly. "Did you bring the universal credit card?"

He shook his head. "Wouldn't work here, different universe, different currencies. It's the niggling details that get you, reversed portraits on the coins, odd colors for the paper money."

Rose nodded, having faced this problem in her dimension travels. "Names of the dynasties. I know. Maybe you could fix my mum's mobile. Jiggery poke it into finding Torchwood?"

"Unlikely, without the TARDIS to help with temporal shunts. We are a long way from Earth's satellite system..." He broke off and squinted at Rose. "How did you manage it?"

"What?" she asked.

"How did you boost the signal of your mobile to contact Torchwood? You didn't have a TARDIS."

"She's got a sort of..." Jackie began, but Rose cut her off quickly.

"It's the same one you fixed for me," Rose said. "It worked here, remember? It linked to the cybernet to help us find my dad?"

"Yes, but I was here, then. The TARDIS was contemporary to you. How did you get it to work once the crack in the universe closed and you were stranded?"

"Mickey thought it was the Albatross," Jackie said.

"It never stopped working," Rose said, glaring at her mum. "Look, if everyone is feeling better we should be moving along. I think the crowd is thinning."

"The sun is setting," he said.

"It was like finding you on the beach," Jackie went on, not taking the meaning of Rose's pointed stare and head shake. "Or hearing English. She can just do things. I told her it wasn't natural, but she never listens to me."

"Mum," Rose said, a warning in her tone. "Now is not the time."

"The beach? What about the beach?" he asked.

"He needs to know, sweetheart," Jackie said, "If he's going to help us go home."

Rose sighed. There was almost no chance they would ever see home or Pete or Tony again. Without a TARDIS or a jump cannon, they were stranded. She thought of little Tony growing up without Jackie and almost wept. Her nausea returned with a vengeance and she doubled over.

The Doctor took her by the elbows, applying a light shake. "Rose, are you in pain or…?"

"She means when you called to me," Rose said, through gritted teeth. She straightened, attempting to pull away from his grip. "All those years ago, at Bad Wolf Bay. I knew how to find you. Like you found me back on Earth, when I called you."

"You called me?" he repeated, peering into her face. Then, his eyes lit with the realization. "Of course, you called me on the mobile. And I heard you. Well, it beeped."

"And then the subnet connected."

This appeared to be news to him. "Wait. After you reached out to me? Only then?"

"I wanted you to find me, I knew you could," Rose said, though now that he seemed so flummoxed, she started doubting her faith. "You were trying to find me, right?"

"No. Hoping to find you, certainly! Because Donna gave me your message. But I was tracking a signal."

"Two words. Bad wolf."

"Two words," he said gravely. "So you do remember, those words, seeing Donna, striding across to a parallel world." Rose nodded. She wondered where he was going with this. "I think the TARDIS was actively searching for you. All this time. That's your connection, Rose. She wanted you back. No. Wait. She wanted me here. Of course!" He pushed the exclamation through his clenched teeth as he released her. "She wanted me here."

"So, that's why I can understand what everyone is saying," Rose said. "Because the TARDIS is guiding me? But how is that possible? She's not here."

"You were part of her once," he said, calm again and shrugging off any concerns, "Perhaps there is a link, still. Or, perhaps...?"

He cocked his head to one side. His eyes narrowed, as his expression grew guarded. He has a secret or two of his own, Rose thought. She longed for the days when they shared everything, even their innermost thoughts. But perhaps those days only existed in her mind. He'd always kept secrets. Maybe she'd been deluding herself, pretending he cared. He'd left Sarah Jane behind and every other companion. He'd promised she was different, but...maybe not. And she couldn't help wondering why, if the TARDIS had wanted her to find the Doctor, it had let her be sent back to this universe with the human copy? There had to be something else going on here.

"Perhaps? What?"

"Perhaps we shouldn't worry about this just now," the Doctor said, "One crisis at a time."

"I know a trick or two, to make a few bob, if we find can find a pub," Jackie said. "And I wouldn't say no to sitting down for a pint. All this running about is exhausting."

"But it's your first alien world, Jackie," The Doctor said, trying for a lighter tone. "That's exciting."

"Mum? How did you manage those kabob?"

"Like I said, I know a trick or two." Jackie pointed at a sign. "That place has wi-fi."

"There's an idea," Rose said, "If you can link up my mum's phone, we could try accessing the Internet."

"Can we email? I want to check on Tony," Jackie said, handing Rose her mobile, "Though I still don't understand how you avoid roaming charges, Rose. Someone in Torchwood financial must notice you're making calls from Saturn. Now, what's wrong with him?" She asked, as the Doctor started sputtering.

"That sign?" he said, pointing to the one Jackie had just indicated. "It's in Paplioo'zese."

"No, it's not," Jackie said. "It's in English."

"Mum?" Rose felt a frisson of fear. She spoke gently, the way she had when she thought her mother was losing her mind. "You see English?"

"Of course, I see English. Don't you?"

"I do, yes, but," Rose couldn't help casting a questioning glance at the Doctor, "We were just saying that's because of the TARDIS. It's still linked in my head. You shouldn't see English."

Jackie became visibly upset. "But why is it making me see things? I don't want it in my head. I thought that was odd, really, all the signs in English. I'm not stupid. I just thought—it was for the tourists. You know real people like us."

Several of the passersby gave Jackie angry glares and Rose realized they could understand her mum. The translations went both ways.

"What's going on?" Rose demanded.

"I don't know, but—of course," the Doctor exclaimed. "That's why I was having such a hard time telling the languages apart. It's not an alien tongue. I am hearing high Gallifreyan with assorted accents. Your mother's hearing and seeing English."

"From the TARDIS?" Rose asked. "Does that mean...? Is she coming back?"

"You tell me," he said, with such threatening intensity Rose gulped in surprise. "Who closed the TARDIS door, Rose? Was it you? Are you keeping me safe?" He seized her arm. "Answer me."

She'd seen that look in his eyes before. It made his enemies tremble, but it had never been directed at her. "No. You know it wasn't me. I was standing behind you. It just closed. All on its own."

"All on its own," he mimicked. He flung her arm away, rocking her with the force. "All that is, all that was, all that ever will be," he said. "Does that ring a bell? You told Dalek Ka'an about killing the Emperor. Who told you? For all I know you sent Ka'an to find Davros."

"What?" She couldn't believe he would accuse her of such ridiculous duplicity. "Doctor, that's insane."

He paced back and forth, clutching at his hair. Rose chewed on her lower lip. What if he was? Insane. What if the archiving business had gone wrong? Or what if the change she'd sensed in him was only part of his delusion? Maybe this was the dangerous duplicate, not the man she loved at all. She'd seen him out of his mind before, during his Ninth incarnation, in a parallel world. She'd barely escaped with her life.

"I've been such a fool. Donna and her grandfather. Donna's car parked next to the TARDIS. That's not coincidence. That's a plan. Your plan." He stabbed a finger at her. "She told you about her keys," he said, awe softening his accusations. One hand circled around his head. "I can sense it all. Bits from Donna's memories, and the other me. He knew first. Well, he would. You created him."

"No! I didn't. Doctor, listen to me. Something is going wrong with you. In your head. It's the regeneration, or whatever that was, or maybe your memories are..."

"I remember. You. Scattering the Dalek fleet. Bring Jack back to life. Signs and symbols everywhere I go. Tell me why you're doing this?" he ordered, grabbing her shoulders.

"Let go of her, you," Jackie demanded, shoving at him. "Can't you see you're scaring her?"

"Oh, she's not scared. Are you, Rose?" He leaned too close, squinting into her face. Rose tried not to move away. He must see how frightened she was. How could he miss it? "You've never been scared of me. Amused, maybe. Dallying."

"Doctor," Rose said, holding on to her patience, while fighting back tears. Oddly, he was right, in a way, they were tears of frustration and heartbreak. Most of her fear was for him. She didn't really believe he would harm her. "You know me. You know my mum."

"Do I? That's why the other one didn't fight me on this ridiculous idea of leaving you behind. He couldn't. The pattern is coming together in my head, now that my head is together. A divided mind is a terrible waste of resources. All those varying perspectives kept me from seeing the whole. It was you, from the very beginning. Maybe from the moment we met." He drew her up on her toes as he grip flexed. "Setting the universe right, manipulating me. And Donna. And Wilf. All of us pawns on a chess board. The question is: what are you?"

"She's my daughter," Jackie told him, "And if you don't let go of her, I'm going to smack you."

Rose blinked away the sting in her eyes. She felt wretched, but she had to get him under control. Oh, how she wanted to rave at him, call him a liar and a horrible person. But, of course, she still loved him, if this was really him. Not if. It was. And he wouldn't hurt her. Even if he was crazy. Losing her temper with him wouldn't solve anything. She didn't want him bolting away from her, not in this condition. It would be one disaster too many for the day. So she reigned in her emotions.

"Mum, he's just confused. Doctor, you've had a shock. Maybe your blood sugar is too low, or…"

He fumbled, one-handed, for his sonic screwdriver and, finding it, pointed it at Rose's temple. She ducked. The screwdriver shrieked. He released his grip on her to smack the rebellious tool against his palm. Rose pushed her mum behind her. After making a few adjustments, he swept the screwdriver up and down, outlining her body. Whatever it told him sent him reeling backward.

"He's cracked," Jackie said, as they stood watching the Doctor mutter to himself. "I knew it would happen one day. He's always been one button short of a shirt front. We should run while we have the chance."

"We can't leave him like this, Mum."

"Do you think he's dangerous, like the other him said?"

He could be, Rose knew. And maybe her mum was right about running. But the Doctor seemed to be settling down. Though, he didn't want to believe his screwdriver readings. He shook the instrument, thumped it and licked it. Then, he scratched his head and adjusted the settings again. This time Rose didn't flinch when he pointed it at her. But, when it beeped loudly, the Doctor looked as if he'd seen a Dalek. The remaining color drained from his face. All of his righteous anger seemed to vanish, too.

"Oh, no," he mouthed, before shouting, "No. Not here. Not now. No. No. No."

His ranting caused him to overheat again. He stopped pacing, tucked the screwdriver into his trouser pocket and stood very still. Rose held her breath, wondering what had caused this abrupt change in his manner. He put a hand to his chest. Maybe feeling his heartbeat? His hand rested there, moving slightly, fingers outlining something in an inner pocket. Then, he reached inside his jacket and his fingers closed around something small. Moving very carefully, as if he were cradeling a soap bubble, he drew forth a glowing bit of TARDIS coral. Rose inhaled sharply. The coral twisted in the Doctor's palm, morphing into a new, slightly bigger piece.

"That's got to be worth something," Jackie said.

"It's priceless," Rose said.

"And growing. We've cracked the plasma shell."

The Doctor covered his eyes with his free hand, making an obvious effort to control his breathing. This was bad, Rose realized. It might be worse than him going mad. She didn't think she wanted to know more than that. And, before she could decide if she wanted to question him, he sprang into action, going from zero to sixty in a nanosecond. Like a conjurer, he made the piece of coral vanish with a smooth sweep of his hand. Jackie yelped as he snatched at her arm. He took Rose's hand, but clasped it very gently. As they set off through the crowd, he sheltered her from assorted bumps and jostles. He forged a path for her. All hesitation gone, he moved with intent.

"Keep up, keep up," he commanded in a voice that barred all argument. "This isn't even close to over, yet."

The element of surprise served him well. Rose forgot to resist. Jackie forgot to protest. The Doctor forgot all of his earlier distress. Rose assumed this was all about the baby TARDIS, but she couldn't be sure. The Doctor was confusing her. His breathing turned ragged again, but he didn't seem to notice. He'd lost his deer in the headlights disorientation. He plowed over people and careened off of carts, ignoring shouts and threats. They turned left, and took a couple of rights. He had found his bearings, it seemed, because he steered them unerringly to a monorail station.

That answers the public transport question, Rose thought, as the Doctor flashed his psychic paper at the ticket taker. Once they'd boarded, he commandeered a bench and sat Rose down on it. She murmured an apology at the commuters he'd ordered to move, but didn't bother asking the brooding Doctor anything. He leaned against a pole, as the monorail zipped along. This was a mood she recognized. He would talk when he snapped out of it. He had his arms crossed and his chin down. His glower raised a stone wall between them. Besides, she didn't feel like fighting whatever crazy notion might have enter his head. Her stomach crabs had returned. They were dancing a rumba on her spleen. She was tired, thirsty, cranky and sick. So much for Rose Tyler, the seasoned team leader. She leaned against her mum's shoulder and closed her eyes.

She didn't stir again until Jackie said, "Oh, look, Rose. Tha's amazing. Like a giant dandelion clock."

With everything else going on, Rose had forgotten this was her mum's first time on an alien world. The structure she pointed at turned out to be the spaceport hotel. Since the Doctor had retreated into his thoughts, Rose played tour guide. She took her mind off her own troubles, by pointing out aliens she knew. She taught her mum how to find a gem trader by the purple sashes worn by the profession for centuries. Jackie showed Rose how to get the best deal. They bargained away one of Rose's diamonds for a sublet room. The Doctor surfaced from his mood to suggest something on the ground floor. As soon as they'd reached this small sanctuary, he found himself confronted by two women with lots of questions.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jackie said. "Dragging us around like rag dolls. Rose isn't feeling well." Rose opened her mouth to ask how she knew that. "Don't say you are fine, sweetheart. I'm your mother, I can tell." She turned back to the Doctor. "Otherwise, she would have given you a kick in the backside."

"And I didn't do anything to the TARDIS," Rose began. "Or you. Or Donna. I didn't crack the shell on that coral. And I'm not going to..."

He held up a hand. "Nevermind all that. Jackie, I don't have time to explain. I need you to use those skills of yours to find more food, enough for a couple of days. Don't go far or get lost. I won't come looking for you." He started casing the place. There wasn't much to discover, a bed, a tallboy-type cabinet. He pushed against the latter, trying to shift it, but it failed to budge. He growled in frustration. "What is wrong with this body? No muscular strength. No lung capicity. I need to create some kind of barricade. Of all the systems in the universe,we would be stranded in one that never heard of doors." After another hearty shove, he gave up his fight with the furniture. Stepping to the window, he angled his body so he could see out without being seen. "Rose, you stay here. Jackie, go!"

"Doctor?" Rose said, worry smothering her outrage. "Are you going to tell us what's wrong?"

"I don't know who you think you are, ordering us about," Jackie said. "But my daughter is…"

"Your daughter is pregnant," he announced, turning abruptly to face them. The grim set of his jaw pulled the rug out from under Jackie's tirade before it could fully launch.

Rose had been expecting more paranoiad raving, not this. "Pregnant? No, I'm not."

"But you are. Very, very pregnant. And, at this time, in this place, that is very, very bad news."

"I can't be. I haven't...it's not possible."

"Not through the ordinary means, perhaps. But these are extraordinary times. Don't you see? That's what this is about. All of it. The Meta Crisis. The Archiving. The TARDIS is giving me what I thought I could never have, again, a family. I passed through you, Rose. In my natural...state."

"And...and...now, I'm pregnant?"

She still couldn't follow his logic. There'd been no sex. She'd been unconscious. The TARDIS doing this to her was just...wrong, creepy, like some interdimensional assault. Though she wasn't quite sure who to blame. The Doctor hadn't planned this or even known it would happen. But he'd said it was what HE wanted? What about her? She wasn't ready to settle down, start a family. She didn't want to be even a little bit pregnant, nevermind...

"Very, very pregnant. That's how's it's done, among my people. One of the ways. And,I'm sorry. I know this is...awkward, confusing, scary." He nodded to himself, content with that word. "I'll fix this, but we don't have much time. Your body is changing. That's why we can all understand the native tongue. Because you need to, Rose. You are resonating through the seed coral."

"If she were very pregnant, she'd be showing," Jackie reasoned.

"Oh, she is," he assured them. "She's all aglow. That's why the K'anB'akiur Scourge came to us on the beach. You're a proper beacon, Rose, to any species with a temporal sensory array. Sadly, that is no longer me. Remember the pilot fish?"

"They wanted to use your regenerative energy to fuel a ship," Rose answered, automatically.

"Imagine 41,283 of me, each one worth a fortune on the open market."

Rose shivered. He had to be talking about duplicates. "41,000 copies?"

"Children. Embryos."

"I knew it. I told you. Didn't I say so?" Jackie said.

"Not in her head. In your," he waved a hand at Rose's mid-section. "In you. Every viable, xeno-compatible, egg in your ovarian reserve has been fertilized. I might be a pawn, Rose, but you're not. You're the queen. My natural form? Your genetic material? The time vortex energy from the heart of the TARDIS? Brilliant. She's created the first human Time Lords. Bound to be a few thousand Regenerates in the mix."

A few…thousand? Potential Time Lords? Inside her? Rose tottered. Blackness rose like a tide, rushing from all sides of her vision and the floor swam up toward her. She didn't know when her knees gave out, but the Doctor sprang to check her fall. He eased her backward, until she sat on the edge of the narrow bed. She slumped into him, head lolling. He settled next to her, keeping her in a loose embrace. She longed to feel the warmth of his arm around her shoulders, but her body had gone numb. Pregnant. No wonder she'd been nauseous all day.

"Every egg," she mumbled. "Yeah, that's...very, very..."

END THIS PART


	4. Chapter 4

**IDLE & BLESSED**  
by Rabid1st  
Doctor Who  
Ten/Rose  
AU from "The End of Time"  
**Rating:** Mature

**Beta:** Keswindhover

**Warning:** This is not a Ten2 story. He is gone, but, not forgotten, exactly. Basically, in my world, Ten2 was a vessel, created by the TARDIS, to store the Tenth Regeneration of the Doctor. A fleshy pocket watch, if you will, for those who have seen Human Nature or Utopia.

**Summary:** The Tenth Doctor has been archived into a biometrically identical vessel with a human heart and other human parts. He's worked out everything but the impossible bits, but he hasn't quite figured out how to empathize or deal with his human body reacting outside his conscious control.

_"Tell me, what is it you plan to do  
with your one wild and precious life?"_  
~The Summer Day by Mary Oliver

As Rose slumped forward into a partial faint, his body, this bloody useless marionette he'd been battling all day, sprang into action. It caught her smoothly, effortlessly, in sync with the speed of his thoughts. Well, not quite that quickly, but far faster than he would have imagined possible a moment earlier. He checked Rose's fall neatly, before she could so much as skin a knee. She sagged against him, her eyelids fluttering as she fought to stay conscious. His nose dipped into the curve of her neck and hair spilled against his face, arresting his attention. No acrid odors. She smelled scrumptious, easily the most tantalizing molecules he'd ever inhaled. And, this seemed crucial, nothing like she'd smelled earlier in the day. Rose had a musk, now. She'd been sweating, of course. Fragrant notes of sunlight and spice and salt graced her skin. And her hair was redolent with the smoky intoxicants from the streets. She smelled better than those skewers of meat Jackie had procured from the Judoon vendor. And those had been perfect.

He'd had no idea human body odors could be pleasant, never mind truly appealing, to the human nose. They certainly made an elaborate fuss about them. Perhaps his hybrid nose had some advantages. He had no point of reference to compare. The TARDIS neutralized fragrances as a matter of necessity. Toxin-coated humans endangered the health and wellbeing of other species they encountered. It had been his policy to set the automatic systems so that any stray particles in the air were zapped by the TARDIS purification protocols. He, also, insisted on supplying zero-scent cosmetics for everyone on board to erase their natural stink. This wasn't solely for his benefit. Some species were particularly sensitive to pheromones. Just careless, really, to offer more information than necessary to strangers.

During their traveling days, Rose, up close, had emitted a decidedly astringent odor, not unpleasant to his Time Lord nose. Though, ape-scented, like all humans, her hair carried a few bitter notes from peroxide infusion, and a whiff of the London rush hour. But, he'd tolerated her odor well enough in the clinch. Truly, had she'd reeked liked beached fulkapafish, the soothing nature of her hugs would have compensated for any olfactory discomfort. He'd set aside most of his squeamishness when it came to cuddling Rose. His habit of jerking and squirming, for example. His proximity sensors made him edgy in the embrace of others. The closer he came to another being the more he could sense of their past and future, but hugging Rose ordered his universe. Together, they bent space and time. The temporal eddies that had always swirled around him became tranquil pools when Rose took him in her arms.

She made him better. He'd told her many times. Better, with its connotations of healing and renewal was the perfect word. All those things to see and do, in all the universe and he just kept running and running, from one to another. He'd run, but never toward anything in particular, never toward anyone, but her. He'd run toward her, and then he'd tried to run away. And, look what that had cost them. Rose was paying a high price for his cowardice. And he'd been rude, all day, blaming her for the meta-crisis, for the archiving. Even if her Bad Wolf persona had manipulated events, it wasn't Rose's choices that led to this situation. His choices were at fault. He never should have left her behind. He should have cracked the universe open, the first time he'd lost her.

He found it hard to let go as he settled her on the edge of the bed. It felt right to sit with his arms around her. If only they could just lie down together. He wanted to taste her, rub his cheek along hers, transferring that delicious scent to his own skin, as if she were catnip and he a tabby. Not the time, of course. Trouble brewing. But perhaps later.

"That's...very, very," she said.

"It will be okay," he murmured, lips grazing her temple. "I will fix this."

Jackie smacked his shoulder. "Haven't you done enough? I told you she needed a hospital," she said. "We can't keep running around like headless chickens."

"Jackie," he growled, tearing himself away from Rose's warmth to glare a warning at her mother.

"Rose should see a real doctor," Jackie insisted.

He surged to his feet, needing to move as he raged. That was proper behavior for him, familiar. But, before he could say anything cutting, he realized that Jackie's maternal instincts were spot on. He stopped and nodded.

"Right. Yes. We should go. Find a ship. Jump world. Get Rose to a hospital."

"What?" Rose said, squinting at him through pain-dulled eyes. "We can't just leave. This world is in trouble."

"I'm sorry," he told her. "There isn't time to save everyone."

"Time," she snorted. She attempted to spring up from the bed, but collapsed back to her seat. The failure didn't curtail her optimism. "Look. I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy. And sore. And," she swallowed convulsively, "and nauseated."

"Rose," he snapped, exasperated. Realizing his sharp tone wasn't appropriate, he immediately modulated his voice to better reflect his concern. "This will kill you."

"Not today. Even if I'm very...very pregnant, it just happened. There's still time. I'm not having 41,000 babies today, yeah?" When he didn't answer, she prompted him with a less authoritative plea. "Not today, right?"

"No. Not today," he said. "Not for...oh, who can tell about this sort of gestation? But, too soon."

His fingers, moving without his instruction, clutched his head. Hair, and lots of it, silky, familiar. Not ginger, but a part of him, a part he easily recognized. He rubbed his scalp in small tight circles, as he fought off an urge to scream. This body seemed quite prone to movement without forethought. He'd always been kinetic. Now he was given to hysteria, adrenaline rushes, headaches and palpitations. No wonder Donna had acted so twitchy at first, given this genetic profile. Imagine traveling the universe in such a reactive vessel! Well, she had. They all did. Humans. How he used to pity their plodding thought processes, never appreciating the physical burden they operated under. How did they survive, thrive even? He struggled to breathe normally, whatever that was. Didn't breathing come naturally for humans? Like...like warmongering? Surely, with the nearly infinite resources available to his mind, he could master this body. Or, at least, the fundamentals.

"We should," Jackie began.

He held up one finger. Almost had the panic buttons sorted. "Wait! Just..."

Of all the times to be breaking in new synapses, this had to be the most inconvenient. Jackie uttered an indignant squeak, but Rose shushed her, as he waded into the tangle of his internal wiring. His half-human brain was an energy hog. It required an astonishing number of nutrients to function. Inefficiency abounded. He felt like an electrician, expected to rewire a Victorian flophouse. He would be ages sorting it all out. In the meantime, he needed fuel. And he'd very little stored fat in this vessel. He hated to think what the fertilized eggs were demanding of Rose's body. They were no doubt devouring her alive.

After a little judicious nervous system tweaking, he managed to auto-regulate his anxiety levels. He feathered back on the cortisol production. Just about...there. His hands stopped shaking. His breathing slowed. He paced over to the window. Movement without increased agitation. Good. He bound back to the entryway. No dizziness. No rushing pulse. Check. Taking a deeper breath, he counted off a few measured heartbeats. Then, he turned to face his little family. They looked worried. Pulling out the screwdriver, he pointed it at Rose. It beeped and he checked the readings.

"You are 112.296, er, we will call it, 110 hours from your next ovulation. And judging by the follicle profile, your relative youth and health, you should produce, let's say, in the neighborhood of twenty, twenty-four eggs, at one time. All of them fertilized. Obviously. And we do not want implantation. We have about...six and a half days until you are in critical distress? Although, as this planet has a nineteen hour rotation, I should say eight days."

"We can take four then," Rose said. "Four days to save the world."

"It's too dangerous, sweetheart," Jackie said. "You can't even stand. How are you going to save people?"

"I don't know, mum," Rose said. "The Doctor will figure something out."

He felt an unexpected surge of appreciation for Jackie. Her level head in this emergency was a revelation. He'd always imagined she'd be a troublesome traveler. But she'd been taking her first alien world in stride. Perhaps she didn't completely realize where they were. But she knew Rose needed help, and she'd found them food. He was tempted to side with her against Rose. Anything could happen, go wrong, if they started meddling in the affairs of this world. Better safe than sorry when it came to Rose's well being. And then, there was the future of their 41,000 children. He was a father again. He let the notion swirl around in his stomach. It caused a touch of dyspepsia. He could use a bowl of chicken soup. Or a nice cup of tea. Right. Synaptic hunger. He snapped his fingers.

"Jackie," he said, closing the space between them to grip her elbows. "We need more food. Right now. Meat. Fruit. Fish. Rose is losing nutrients by the bucketful. That's why she's so weak." He glanced at Rose. "Eat some of your rations. They should help. But," he focused again on Jackie, "she'll need solids, too. We both will. Tea. Find a bit of—no, wait, I have some in my," he patted himself down and crowed, "Yes, pockets. I love pockets. Oh, I miss my lovely long coat, with all of those pockets. But this jacket is fine, too. Always liked it. Where was I? Food. Yes. After we have eaten, we can decide what to do next. Fair enough?"

"Couldn't we call room service?" Jackie asked, pointing to what she thought was a phone on the wall.

"Room service?" He'd never heard of anything so daft. Even if it were possible, telling everyone they were vulnerable, letting strangers in the room? Like that would be a good idea! He looked where she was pointing. "That's art work," he said. "A copy of _Pulse Persuasion_ by the local artist, D'elKwokLuVong. A very popular work, well, I say popular. Used for hotels and adverts. I'm partial to a lesser known masterpiece, called _As Luck Would Have It_, by the same artist. More color. Vibrant. Alive. From his Fates and Chances Period. This one always struck me as too, too, I don't know, commercial. And, now you mention it, it does look a bit like a phone. Although, it can't be, because no phones. Also, they don't have room service on this planet. And we don't want everyone in service to know we are here. We need to keep a low profile."

"The fewer people we let in the better, mum," Rose said, holding out a gel pack toward Jackie. He stepped between them, rotating Jackie toward the entrance again.

"No sharing," he told Rose, over his shoulder, "You need it more than we do."

"Why can't you go?" Jackie asked. "I don't want to leave Rose."

"I can protect her," he said, meeting her eye squarely, while striving for his most reasonable tone and expression, "And you can't." He took both of her hands in his. "I won't let anything happen to her, I promise you."

"I've heard that before," Jackie said. She assessed him for longer than was flattering. Then, she drew her hands free from his hold and nodded. "I'll go, then," she said. He heaved a great sigh. Only, she didn't go. Side-stepping around him, she edged closer to her daughter. "But you two stay put. I'll be back quick as I can, sweetheart. Try to rest. And don't run off...either of you."

"Only a full frontal assault will shift us," he promised, putting a hand to the small of her back to guide her along.

"Wish that sounded less likely to happen," Jackie said, as she bent to kiss Rose's cheek.

Rose caught at her sleeve. "Will you be okay out there?" she asked.

"She'll be fine," he said, breezily, giving a small shove to Jackie. She swatted him away.

"This isn't London," Rose warned.

"S'not that different," Jackie said. "You know, I thought it would be really...weird, the way you used to go on about alien worlds. But I think cities are the same all over. Pubs and shops and space sailors on shore leave. I'll come back richer, you'll see."

Her jaunty assurance chilled him to the bone. "Don't get arrested," he hissed in an undertone as he escorted her to the entrance hall. "And don't sample the food. I need to test it for toxins. Poison. You were lucky with the kabobs."

"Wasn't luck. I asked him about human food. You always think I'm such an idiot..."

"You were lucky he told you the truth. Series L-5 supplies, those should be safe for humans. Read the labels. If you stop seeing English, you've strayed too far, come back. And there is this fruit, filled with liquid, called a Xlognuh...delicious and particularly nutritious. It will clear Rose's head."

"Xlognut," Jackie said. "L-5."

"Nuh," he corrected. "But, yes, well…close enough." He pointed his screwdriver at the wall. "I'm going to set up a sonic resonance field. Just about...here. Be sure to call out when you return or it will knock you senseless. And Jackie," he caught her gaze and held it, lifting both brows for emphasis, "Do be careful."

"I've been on my own a long time," Jackie said. "While you two were traveling, I took care of myself. And before you came along, I took care of Rose, too. See you look after her."

He glanced toward Rose, then nodded. Jackie plodded off along the stem-like corridor that connected their room to the central shaft of the hotel. He watched her go. She turned back to wave, just before dropping out of sight, and the briefest twinge of apprehension made him swallow. No way to tell if it was a true premonition or just a swish of stomach bile. The universe around him had yet to be defined out of the stew of his muddled sensations. But there was no doubt he'd gotten the Tyler women into one hell of a mess. He traced the wiring in the walls to a com-unit, a micro dot of holographic transmitters, well hidden from view. As Rose sucked on the last energy packet, he dismantled the device.

He dawdled over the sonic field. Not because it was particularly complicated. A sonic field generator only required a power source, a paper clip, a copper coin and a reverberation razor. The razor, a primitive sonic device, culled from the courtesy supplies in the bathroom, was a disposable one, which meant their protection was a one-shot zapper. But once he'd boosted the signal, he felt confident it would deliver a nasty shock. Still, he kept checking his work. He just didn't know what to say to Rose. She had curled into a fetal pose on the bed, silently watching him. He had no idea what she was thinking. And he was afraid to ask.

Finally, she broke the silence. "I've missed watching you putter," she said.

He lit up inside. Feeling fizzy, he turned, beaming his best smile at her. "I've missed you watching."

"Did you?" She asked, a slight tremor in behind her words. "You and Donna? Traveling the universe with your equal...at long last...did you miss me?"

Guilt wilted his smile. "Donna?" he said, stalling for time. The waves of depression threatened to swamp him again. He remembered how clueless Donna had been about her coming fate and what she'd told Rose before they parted. He had processed Donna's remarks as symptoms of her illness. And never even considered the effect they might have on Rose. "Donna wasn't-" His tongue stuck to his teeth as he ran out of saliva, inconvenient that. Should have expected his human body to react to his turmoil. His voice cracked. "Donna didn't make it. Her mind couldn't...that is, she…"

Rose sat up, swinging her feet around to the floor. "Donna's dead? But...I thought..."

"No. Not dead. Exactly. I took her home. We didn't travel. We couldn't. The meta-crisis wasn't over when we left you. It doesn't stop until...well, it doesn't stop."

"Tell me how it works," Rose said.

"All biological material is converted. Donna was a conduit, for the process. She thought she was part of it, but she never was. She would have been absorbed into the new life. I had to destroy the link between them. But freeing her came at a cost. Her mind. She had to forget...everything. Everything she'd seen, learned—who she became, traveling with me. I took everything from her. By force." His reasoning turned to pleading, as Donna's horror rekindled in Rose's face. "I had to. Can't you see that? It was the only way to stop the transfer, the only way to save her life."

"You took her memory?"

"It was the only way," he insisted. "One of us had to die. Just as Ka'an foretold. I couldn't let it be her. Not after losing you. Not after giving up…my own hopes, to save her, to save all of you. This," he smacked his chest hard, "This abomination would have sucked the life out of her. All of my memories drained through her mind. She tried to hold on to them. There's never supposed to be two of me. Or three. I should have been dead at the start of it." He wiped a bit of spittle from his lips. Calmed down a little. "A meta crisis claims a life for a life, usually from another Time Lord. Information is shared, genetic and intellectual. I thought if we left, if we sealed off this universe, if we cut the cord, it might stop the process. But, I couldn't leave him here alone, could I? He was too dangerous. Imagine me, without you…born in battle, with human failings…"

"But you were without me. And you...you took Donna's mind?" She couldn't seem to believe it. Her brow furrowed as if she struggled to fathom his reasons.

"I had no choice."

"You did. You could have let her die. I would rather die, than lose you like that. Did you ask her? Did you find out what she wanted...?"

"She couldn't be subjective, Rose. Not in the middle of the meta-crisis. You have to believe me. I had no choice! You had to stay. We had to go." He stabbed a finger at the far wall, as if he could point toward another universe. "And then, it didn't matter...our loss, my loss." He still hadn't come to grips with this, the cosmic joke at his expense. "Because the conversion process kept going, even across the void. And I truly hope that wasn't y-r—the plan. Donna wasn't herself. She wanted to keep going, to become me. And that desire was destroying her. So, I stopped it. And then, I took her home. Told her family to forget me, too. Never to mention me."

Rose had stopped listening. Her skin had a ghostly pallor, perhaps from her illness, but he thought not. She stared out the window, not looking at him, not speaking. He watched her until the hopelessness burgeoning inside made him turn away. He couldn't bear her silent condemnation. She hated him. Just as Donna had hated him at the end, when he'd been inside her mind. There was no forgiving some things. He'd apologized, the whole time. But what did it matter? He'd ravaged her mind. It hardly helped if he said he was sorry for it. To his surprise, when Rose spoke again, she seemed to have changed the subject.

"Why did you say it was me?" Rose said. "My plan?"

"What?" He took a shaky breath and forced himself to look at her.

"You said, I created the human you, caused all of this. Why?"

He waved a hand. "I wasn't thinking clearly. Don't worry about..."

"Doctor," she said, making his title a warning. She didn't want him to deceive her, coddle her.

He moved closer, held out his hand, palm up to entreat her.

"You are the only one I know who has that sort of power. That could have arranged so many coincidences." Even as he said this, he acknowledged the oversimplification with a dip of his head and a slight squint. "Or, I should say, the only one who would have cared enough to arrange them. The Old Ones could have managed it. The TARDIS has enough power. But the TARDIS can't initiated a meta-crisis on her own. She would never think to attempt it, unless I'd been physically compromised, blown apart or the like. If I was injured beyond repair, her automatic systems might try to salvage me. But she would need instructions from my subconscious, even then."

Tossing his hands up, he dismissed the idea of the TARDIS as a mastermind. "She might want to save me. But, I was alive and well, standing just outside her. I gave no orders. Someone...? Something convinced her to create this body. She either believed this hand and the residual energy was all that was left of me...or...she wanted me archived like this. Maybe the aborted regeneration alarmed her, but…that wouldn't explain the initiative."

He sorted through his impressions of what happened, before and after he was shot down by that Dalek.

"And then, you sent me word. Two words: Bad Wolf. You know what that means."

"Words to lead me back to you."

"And I saw them, printed everywhere, on the TARDIS door. The TARDIS door, Rose! A warning from you, across time and space. I thought it meant the universe was breaking down, but, that was faulty reasoning, because...how could you, a purely human you, send the words? And that was only the beginning. Someone closed the TARDIS door, trapping Donna inside. Someone led Donna to me, not once but twice. And you were there the second time." He framed his eyes with both hands. Fingers spread wide. "I can see you in the vestiges of her memories. And her grandfather met me, too. There were psychic portents. He will knock four times. Someone had to guide Dalek Ka'an, help him in the Time Vortex. He went mad, of course. But he found Davros, who created an engine to fractured the universe, and there aren't too many beings that could do that."

Rose laughed, a rattling, bitter sound. "If I could manipulate the universe, don't you think I would have come back, years ago?"

"It doesn't work that way. You aren't acting consciously. We are on a path, you created, oh, so long ago. A path weaving through time and space and alternative realities. All of this was set in motion, before my ninth regeneration. Do you remember coming back for me the first time, on Satellite Five?"

"Some of it. I was home. And I saw those words," Brow furrowed in concentration, she formed the name with her lips, but didn't utter it aloud, "Bad Wolf." A second later, her face smoothed into blank bewilderment, as she went on with her recollection, "I looked into the TARDIS. And the TARDIS looked into me. There was singing."

"You looked into the Time Vortex," he said, settling himself at the very corner of the bed, careful not to crowd her. "Nobody is meant to do that. To see all of those variables in time and space. All of those futures and pasts and alternatives. On Gallifrey, my home world, there is an untempered schism, a sort of window onto the time vortex."

"You told me. That's what made you a Time Lord."

"Yes. But, it is more complicated than that." He closed his eyes as he thought back to his childhood trials. How to explain his culture, succinctly? "My people evolved in a sea of Artron energy. It helped to create us. The TARDIS coral evolved swimming in and out of the schism. They are like our dolphins, a different type of intelligence on our world. Eventually, a few of my people, those who carry the regenerate DNA, were able to tolerate the full spectrum of temporal fires, untempered, for a few minutes. It is like being God. We see the shape of our infinite futures." He opened his eyes and met hers as he said, "We can create ourselves."

"Sounds horrible," Rose said.

"It is. Nobody should play God. And, I've tried, since we last met. But that's another story, for another time. My point is, we were exposed to the schism as children. To see if we could be Time Lords. Some go mad. Some run away."

"You ran," Rose said and her certainty arrested his attention for a moment. Had he told her that?

This body was given to shivering. The hairs stood up on his arms. He rubbed his hands together, briskly, wondering if there was a way to close the window. Night was falling.

Finally, he decided Rose's knowledge wasn't a threat to him. He nodded, simply accepted her knowing. "I did. But I stayed long enough to qualify for training. You, on the other hand, let the Vortex run through you. You just opened up your head and heart and lived with it. Only a TARDIS can do that. Maybe that's the key, an open heart. My people were after glory and you were just…trying to help me."

"Save you. I wanted to save you," Rose said, in a dreamy tone. Her eyes lost focus. She stared at, through, the far wall. "The TARDIS wanted that, too."

"Yes!" He touched her hand, drawing her attention back to him. "I believe you mapped out a path through time and space. And you told her about it. A way to keep me safe, deliver me here. Archiving is one of the primary functions of a TARDIS. She would have understood I was about to regenerated on Satellite Five. She's temporally transcendent. When a Time Lord regenerates, his TARDIS helps him survive the process. She sifts through his memories, copies and transfers them to the new host body. Sometimes it takes a week or more to sort out the personalities. And then, she is programmed to archive anything the new persona doesn't need. But she couldn't do that with the MATRIX locked away from her. My previous self, born in battle, carried his predecessor with him, just as I carried on the...attachments and passions of my former selves. I am essentially a three-fold man. I think the TARDIS couldn't cope. But, you, you might have shown her a way."

Rose sighed, her head dropping forward. "I don't remember doing that," she said, twisting her fingers together in her lap. "When I try to, it is like a bright curtain in my mind. Fire and fear and pain. I can't look past it. I had a need to save you. Because you are important to...all that is, all that was…"

"All that ever will be," he said it with her.

"I understand that, now," she said, lifting her chin until their lines of sight intersected. "When I was traveling on my own, jumping from one alternative reality to another, I could see how "what will be" changed. Now, I know why you don't like to say much. How a single word or decision can change everything. Donna turned right and everything unraveled. She had to turn left."

"Did you make her?"

"I…explained. I told her what to do. How to change her life." Tears filled her eyes. "She would always-die."

"Yes. That's what I saw, too. Her path kept circling back to the same end. And I couldn't take it." He inched closer. "But she's fine, now, Rose. Can you see that?"

Rose shook her head, just slightly. "No. How?"

"I died. At last. And the TARDIS exploded. I'm sure the meta-crisis stopped at that point, because the polarity reversed. When I was pulled or pushed across to this dimension, finally archived, Donna would have been set free."

Shame gnawed at him as he recalled his childish reaction. He had been furious when he'd realized he would be the one to die. He'd raged against fate, with Donna's Grandfather looking on. But he'd accepted it at last. It wasn't his finest moment. On the other hand, nobody likes to be manipulated. And he could feel the teeth of the Wolf biting into him, at that moment, when Wilf had knocked four times. He'd imagined, simply ending. He hadn't realized she would archive him, not until the TARDIS exploded.

Rose clutched at his forearm. "Donna's alive? With all her memories?"

"Oh, yes. Fine. Sorted." Happy to process this bit of good news himself, he took a moment to savor the thought. "I see no reason why she wouldn't be restored, once I stopped exerting my influence in that dimension," he said. Then, he grimaced as another thought occurred. "Mind you. She might be getting a divorce."

"She's married?"

"Yep. Simple-minded chap. Reminded me of Mickey. Harmless enough." Before Rose could do more than poke him, he asked, "What was it like? Traveling across alternatives?"

"Terrifying," she said. "And amazing. And...lonely. I've seen things..."

Oh, that made his heart ache. He understood it so well. They had so much in common. Nobody had ever looked at him like Rose. She saw the man he wanted to be. She laughed at his jokes. She wanted to make the universe better. Fix it, like she'd fixed him. Of course, they'd both made mistakes. A twinge of regret for his own meddling, tempered his pride in hers. Odd how poignant, how rich those feelings were now. Fear and pride and tenderness and awe...all mixed together. He wanted to console Rose, even as he cheered her on. They were quite the pair.

"I couldn't really talk to anyone. I'd meet Mum or Mickey or Jack...in a parallel world...and they'd just...look straight through me. I was a stranger to them. And I knew things, terrible things. I had to let them make mistakes that I knew would cost them everything. Right turns. Wrong turns. Say the wrong word in the right ear and the whole world fractures. Its just so much pressure. I could see it happening in the dimension cannon, over and over again."

"Doesn't it just drive you mad?" he asked, the same question he'd asked her Bad Wolf self.

"Completely. I knew...well, I'd seen, all of this brilliant stuff, yeah? And I couldn't share it with anyone. Just like when I traveled with you, only..."

"Then, we had each other," he said. His hand covered both of hers, caressing her fingers.

"This time, I had no one. It was always a relief to find Donna, to tell her about you, to work on a project with her. Even though..."

"You couldn't save her. We were linked together in every dimension. All of the time lines went through her," he said, putting it together in his head. "There was only one way out for her, because we were supposed to end up here."

"Pregnant?" Rose asked, one hand pulling away from his grip and drifting upward to settle over her bellybutton.

"Oh, I don't know." Exasperation made him restless. He stood up suddenly, pacing. "I thought that was part of your grand plan. But since you don't remember having a plan, we have no real information. Maybe it was the TARDIS, giving me a family, again, or...it is nothing more than a side effect."

"Some side effect." Rose tilted her head bacK to look at him. "What do we do about it? I mean, its alright for Mum to say, get me to a real doctor, but where do we find one who can fix this? Can you fix it?"

"Of course, I can." He stopped before her and took her by the shoulders, drawing her to her feet, and then into his arms. Hugging her tight, he said, "Maybe you hate me now. I understand that, but..."

She pushed away from him. "I don't hate you. How could I?"

He brought a hand up between them and counted off his sins with his fingers. "I left you behind. Broke my promises. Hurt Donna. That was completely unforgivable."

"And partly my fault, if I set us on this path. I never should have let you leave. I..."

He laughed. She has such confidence in her power over him. "You tried to stop me. And I didn't want to go, or come here, in the end. But, you listen to me, Rose Tyler. I won't let you die. Even if it means..." He didn't want to say it. His lips clamped closed.

"What?"

"Even if it means terminating them."

"Terminating?" She inhaled sharply and her voice took on a desperate edge. "But you can't. They are part of you. Part of us, yeah?"

"I won't lose you. Not again."

"It won't come to that." She stepped in close and gently stroked a hand up the back of his upper arm. "You'll see. We'll figure something out."

He wanted to believe in her. But he needed to make his position crystal clear. Locking his gaze on hers, he gritted his teeth, so his breath hissed between them. He let the fire of firm purpose burn in his eyes. Emperors crossed him at their peril. He wasn't about to be pushed around by the whims of one little Earth girl. But Rose didn't flinch. She just stared at him, all impassive defiance, until his resolve faltered. And his belief in their legendary prowess rebounded. To his own amazement, as he relaxed into a more carefree stance, his mind cleared. A plan or two began to take shape.

"Yes, of course, we will," he heard himself saying, and wondered what sort of magic she used on him. Just for a second, his suspicions returned, but he set them quickly aside. Rose was Rose, no sense trying to work out how she managed to cajole him into Christmas dinners and the like. "As a matter of fact," He flicked his fingertips at his temples to indicate all of his recent mental activity and gave her a wag of the brow. "I have a few ideas brewing."

The pink tip of her tongue appeared at the corner of her wolfish smile. "Care to share?"

"I think I might," he said, leaning ever so gently in to bump her shoulder. "I believe, that is, I'm fairly certain I can modify your energy signal. Take you off the radar for a bit."

"Buy us more time," Rose nodded. "Good idea. And...if you can make my mum's phone work," She fumbled for the mobile, she'd secured from Jackie and handed it to him, "We might, I don't know, summon help, even jump off this planet."

"Now, that! That I would love. What I wouldn't do with a dimension cannon about now," he said, rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. "Never mind the lectures on temporal refractory curves and infinitesimal fissures in the fabric of your personal reality. Pop us all back to Earth. And Bob's your Uncle. We'd have you fit for duty in no time."

"Right then, get busy. And while you are tinkering, tell me about this Scourge. How did they get here? Where could they be hiding?" She half-pushed, half-dragged a cushion toward the window. "How do we stop them? I'm going to consider the lay of the land."

"They're in the Hatchery," he told her, indicating direction with a tip of his head, as his hands kept busy on the phone. "That square structure to the East. Well guarded. The trick will be getting past security. I've worked out a couple of ways to do that."

Rose laughed, dipping her head so her hair spilled across her face. "Yeah, you are quite handy," she said.

A sense of contentment bloomed in his chest and he sidled closer to her. The warm approval in her voice set his world right again. Rose still cared for him. Everything was going to be fine. He would learn to get along in this new body. He could use an operator's manual, but he'd manage. They would sort this mess out and, once they did, once Rose was safe...then...then...images of Rose bombarded him, like a slide-show in his head. He thought about her touching him, smiling at him, laughing along with him. He would bump her shoulder. No. He would hold her, oh, so close. The memory of her delicious musky aroma filled his mind, crowding out reason. He thought about kissing her, tangling his fingers in her hair. They could lie down together on the bed, and...

A hot prickle raced along his arms and up his legs. Blood flowed into his bowels. He glanced down, looking for some injury. But he felt fine, relaxed and, yet, ready for action. He stilled. Head cocked to one side, he considered the sudden desire he had to touch himself, to stroke a palm across his belly and relieve this increasing tension. Right now. Rose said something, but he missed it, preoccupied. A liquid heaviness grew in his gut, triggering a swelling sensation in his pants. A stiffening. What the...? Turgidness? Now? Talk about inappropriate reactions. Rose couldn't get anymore pregnant. Not, he recalled, that it mattered, because humans didn't observe mating seasons. But, she certainly wasn't in the mood. Nor was he, come to that. He couldn't even imagine where to begin. Although, he could begin by removing her jacket. Or his. His seemed quite constricting. But, no. Of all the ridiculous times to prepare for sex. In the middle of this crisis? Really? Oh, how he hated this body.

END THIS PART


End file.
